


Fade

by xDemon_Talex



Category: Death Note
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Role Reversal, Romance, Stockholm Syndrome, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 395,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDemon_Talex/pseuds/xDemon_Talex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious notebook falls from the sky, bearing the story of a world in which Kira reigns supreme, L is forced into a desperate struggle to change both his fate and the fate of the world. But his attempts are complicated when he discovers that he only holds half of the story—and that the other half resides with the living paradox that is Light Yagami. The resulting chaos finds two geniuses from different worlds thrown together, racing to change the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Before we hop in, you should know that this story was a request from a friend over on a different site, and I've just modified it slightly to fit my tastes. I've written quite a large chunk of it already, and it's turning into a bit of a monster, so be prepared to stick around for a while if you like where it's headed. Keep in mind that the introduction will take a few chapters, so don't be surprised if the story starts off a bit slow. I plan on posting on Saturdays, though that may change with time. Anyways, I think that's all. Enjoy the first chapter!

 

It was approximately ten o'clock in the morning, and Ryuk had already been threatened with death more times than he cared to admit.

First it was Sidoh. The brainless idiot hadn't even noticed when Ryuk had snatched his Death Note a few weeks back, but _oh_ had he noticed when he took just a _few_ of those sandy, repulsive things the shinigami called apples from the cave in which he dwelled—well, at least, where he dwelled when he wasn't running around gambling, complaining, spreading nasty rumors, or just generally being an eyesore. It wasn't like shinigami really _cared_ about apples—so why did Sidoh have to get so worked up over a few of the things mysteriously vanishing from the tree-like hunk of wood "growing" right outside his cave? It wasn't like he was going to eat them! (Although, Ryuk later reflected, it wasn't as if _he_ was going to eat them either. He was just planning on chucking the things at Sidoh's shriveled, shrunken head later when he wasn't paying attention. It was about the only thing that shinigami apples were good for—they were too hard to bite, and the crunch of sand between the teeth was flat out repulsive.) But that was besides the point—all that mattered was that when Ryuk flew up for his friendly act of burglary, Sidoh was apparently lurking around inside his pathetic excuse for a cave, and he'd come bursting out at full speed, screeching something about how if Ryuk was stealing apples, he _must_ have stolen his Death Note, and if he had, he absolutely _demanded_ that he tell him where it was!

Well, first of all, Sidoh's Death Note was quite literally tucked in between Ryuk's belt and his tattered semblance of a shirt, clearly visible to even the most untrained of eyes. But Sidoh hadn't noticed, oh no—he just flapped around screaming, and if Ryuk hadn't known better he would have guessed that his fellow shinigami was having some sort of fit of insanity. Which, Ryuk reasoned, he probably was. It wasn't every day one's Death Note mysteriously vanished, and the prospect of actually _dying_ set in. But that was just too bad for Sidoh—if he wasn't intelligent enough to notice that his Death Note was _five feet away from him,_ then he really didn't deserve it in the first place. He could crawl off somewhere and die for all Ryuk cared; he was just a whiny-voiced parasite.

It was around then, when Ryuk was just beginning to think of how pleasantly quiet it would be once Sidoh died, that he realized that Sidoh was in the midst of hurling death threats his way. He didn't take it seriously, of course—what could Sidoh do without his Death Note? Hell, what could he do _with_ his Death Note against another shinigami? Zip. Zilch. Nada. But nonetheless, he found himself slightly unnerved by the way Sidoh was writhing about on the ground just then, and so he ignored the incredibly detailed death threat being hurled his way—something about ripping his wings off and stuffing them down his throat, curling him up into a ball and shoving his toes into his eye sockets, that kind of thing—and flew away with absolutely no apples whatsoever, much to his irritation.

The _second_ death threat had come from Rem. An ugly creature, that one, Ryuk believed. All pasty white, gangly limbs, old-looking bandages, too-large feet, and that one, staring yellow eye. Oh, how he hated that eye. It was just so… _hideous._ Blank, expressionless, constantly watching. Ryuk was shuddering just thinking about it. Once again, he hadn't been paying too close attention when he received that particular threat. Something about Gelus dying after watching after some human girl for a couple years, he thought. Oh wait, no, that wasn't it—it was something like, "I know you haven't taken a human's life for quite some time, and your lifespan must be rapidly decreasing, so I'm going to warn you now—if you lay a hand on—"

Wait, what was her name? Missy? Mika? Miso? No, wait, that last one was a type of soup… Misao, then? No, he remembered! It was Misa! Misa Amano, or Amana, or something like that.

"—Misa Amane, then I'll make sure you meet your end. Mark my words, Ryuk, if you dare to write her name, I will find a way to destroy you. Do not forget, I saw how Gelus died, and I could easily find a way to replicate it on _you._ "

Hmm…maybe he should be concerned about that one.

But no matter how concerned Rem's threat made him, it was nothing compared to _The_ Threat. The big one, with a capital T. _Two_ capital T's. And _The Threat_ wasn't one you could just ignore _._

At about one in the morning (at least, Ryuk _thought_ it was one in the morning. Shinigami didn't really sleep, so keeping track of time was more of an estimate than an exact science), _the_ shinigami had called him up. _The shinigami,_ as in, the _ruler_ of all the other shinigami. Now, obviously _that_ was a bit surprising. It wasn't every day the old man wanted to speak to another shinigami. Even if he did want to speak to someone, he normally just sent his right hand shinigami, who was just as scary, if not more, than he was. And so to get a call directly from the old man himself was quite a surprise. A _terrifying_ surprise, especially seeing as Ryuk had just stolen another shinigami's notebook, which was a big no-no. He half expected to walk up to the old man and have the guy blast him off the face of the shinigami realm. One of those "righteous judgment" things that humans were so concerned with. But when he got there, the old man was just sitting on his throne, as per usual, staring off into the distance. Looking just as terrifying as ever, he might add.

It was at that point that Ryuk approached him, and, an uncharacteristically sheepish look on his face, asked why he'd called him.

"There is a shinigami in the human realm."

Ryuk blinked, surprised, and asked, "Yeah? And what of him?"

"He is not supposed to be in the human realm. He has broken shinigami law."

Oh, boy. If the old man thought Ryuk was about to go off gallivanting about in the human world in search of a mysterious shinigami, he was _wrong._ He had better things to do—collect apples, look at apples, dream about apples, throw apples at Sidoh's shrunken head… He did _not_ have the time to run off to the human world, no matter how boring it was in the shinigami realm, or how entertaining it might be, or what kinds of humans he might get to see along the way, or how greatly his boredom might be alleviated.

Although, when it was put that way…

But no. Ryuk was no one's errand boy. He didn't sit, speak, or shake on command, and he was determined to keep it that way. And so he said, a nasty grin plastered across his face, "No way _I'm_ going after the guy, boss. If he's not supposed to be there, then send your little messenger after him, or go yourself. I don't want to go to the human world."

"You do want to go, and that's why I'm choosing you."

And once again, Ryuk insisted, "I'm not running around the world looking for some bratty little shinigami that decided to run away from home."

To which the boss replied, "You don't have to run all over the human world. I know where he is, and all you have to do is get his Death Note for me."

Ryuk paused then, a frown on his face. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that the boss wasn't an idiot. Everything he did, he did for a reason—and if he was telling him to go to the human world, it was for a damn good reason. Like, _apocalypse_ level good reason. As in, the world itself was ending, and the fate of all mankind—and by extension, all _shinigami_ -kind—rested on his shoulders.

Well, that was probably a bit of an exaggeration. But still—there was a good reason.

But not good enough.

And so Ryuk looked his boss directly in the eyes, grinned, and said, "No." Just like that.

And just like a small child, the boss leaned forward, and replied, "Yes."

He cackled. "No way in hell, boss. I'm not following your orders."

The old man raised a brow and leaned forward in his seat even further, and for a moment Ryuk thought he was about to be obliterated. But then the big boss shrugged, and said, "Your decision, I suppose. I can't force you."

Well, that was that. Ryuk turned, wings aloft, about to take off and head back to Sidoh's place—hopefully, he thought, to snatch some apples off that tree-like stub protruding from the ground. But things were never that easy. There was always a catch, and the boss was the king of catches.

"I can't force you," he repeated, "but if you don't go, then I'll kill you."

Oh. Well, that changed things a bit, now, didn't it? He'd already received two death threats today—well, _dozens,_ if you counted the plethora of clipped phrases thrown his way via Sidoh's strange, almost beak-like mouth—and now it seemed that he was receiving another. Which, of course, wouldn't have been so bad if not for the fact that it was coming from _The_ shinigami. As in, the _only_ shinigami in all of existence that could actually follow through with his threat.

"So, would you rather me kill you here and now? Or would you rather run a little errand to the human world?"

The sarcastic, snide part of Ryuk's mind very much urged him to say something incredibly suicidal and foolish—but he reigned that part in, and instead asked with a half-assed grin, "The location?"

And then the old man told him, and Ryuk raised a brow, and realized and why he was being sent instead of the boss's right hand shinigami.

It was Japan. _Japan_ —as in, the one place the boss's right hand shinigami had sworn off as a result of some shady, uncertain events that took place a few thousand years ago. Ryuk had never really paid attention to the rumors—it was always the same thing, after all. Some shinigami ran off to the human realm and fell in love with a human, or did something they shouldn't have. Actually, those two things were pretty much considered the same thing. Funny.

"Do you understand?" the old man asked, and Ryuk really had no choice in the matter, and so he nodded.

The boss told him the location, reiterated the importance of getting the notebook, and told him to get lost.

And so Ryuk, bearing a grudge and a half-excited, half-bitter attitude about his whole situation, headed over to the portal to the human world and jumped right on in. A flash of light, a sensation, a draft of wind beneath his wings, and then there he was—Japan. Everything was so _easy_ these days, Ryuk reflected. So _boring._ Why couldn't something interesting happen? Something other than this ridiculous little errand? If this was the boss's attempt at entertaining him so he didn't go running of to the human realm to cause trouble, then he was doing a terrible job of it. Just what the hell was he supposed to be accomplishing here?

Oh, yes—he was killing another shinigami. Not literally, of course, but time was deadly. Without a Death Note, shinigami were really no better than humans—they'd live, they'd die, they'd decay and turn into dust. Ryuk supposed he should feel bad about killing one of his own, but feeling bad wasn't really his thing. He was much better at sitting back and laughing when another shinigami died, and completely denying the fact that one day, he would follow. After all, he wasn't the boss's favorite shinigami, despite the fact that he'd been chosen for this little errand. Perhaps the old man thought he'd mess it up, and he'd have an excuse to kill him.

Well—that wasn't going to happen! The thought of the boss trying to kill him just made Ryuk more and more frustrated, and time passed swifter than it should have as he made his way to the destination of the rogue shinigami.

And then he was there, in that place said shinigami had been staying in for however long he'd been hiding out in the human world. And then there was a lot of noise—yelling, screaming, fighting, screeching—in general the whole experience was just quite unpleasant. That shinigami, whoever he was, was absolutely against the idea of another shinigami barging in and stealing away the only thing that kept him alive. But he was very old, and very weak, and if his visage had anything to say about it, he hadn't used the Death Note in a long while. His lifespan was clearly running low, and he was clearly nearing the end of his life. He _looked_ old—shaggy hair, gaunt, sunken cheekbones, pale, pasty skin—even paler than Rem, in fact. And _that_ was saying something. If there was a color paler than white, then that was what the shinigami was.

Wait…what had he been talking about?

Oh, yes—around the time when Ryuk wrenched the shinigami's notebook out of his hands, said shinigami had begun to scream in earnest. Something about, "The future must be changed!" and "No, you don't understand, that notebook contains a terrible secret! If you take it, you'll ruin everything I've worked for!" and lastly, "He must be warned! They must all be warned!"

Hmph. Crazy old bat.

After that, Ryuk kicked the shinigami off him, turned around, and flew away, ignoring the animalistic shrieking emanating from the warehouse-esque area he was currently exiting.

And then, in a high-pitched, shrieking voice, there came the fourth death threat of the day. "You'll rue the day you took away my notebook, shinigami! The information contained within the pages of that book can save the fate of the entire human race! You wretched little—!"

…That was when Ryuk stopped listening. He was just so tired of having his life threatened. Especially by the deranged individual that was writhing about on the ground, exactly like Sidoh, screeching threats that he would have no opportunity to follow through with seeing as he wouldn't be alive for much longer.

That brought Ryuk to ten o'clock in the morning—the current time. And currently, he was flying over Japan on his way to the shinigami realm. He'd finished his little job in less than three hours, and was eager to return to his boring, mundane existence, sneaking around Sidoh's cave to steal apples and hurl them at whoever happened to catch his eye that day. He couldn't wait to sit there, high up on some desolate cliff, and stare down into the human world, wondering what it would be like to give a notebook to a human and wander around for a while. And he _absolutely_ couldn't wait to do absolutely _nothing_ for the rest of his pathetic existence.

…Not.

Japan was a place that the boss's right hand shinigami absolutely _would not go,_ and at the current moment Ryuk had not one, not two, but _three_ Death Notes in his possession.

Wouldn't it be a shame if he… _accidentally_ dropped one of the notebooks into the human world?

Then again, maybe it wasn't such a good idea…the boss could find out what he'd done and send someone after him. He might not be able to send his right hand shinigami after him, but he could still send Rem, or Sidoh, or someone else equally unpleasant.

In all honesty, it would be much more intelligent to take the third notebook back to the boss, then come back to the human world and drop his second notebook for someone to find. But that was just so inconvenient, Ryuk mused. It would be so much more entertaining to just drop both notebooks. After all, the boss hadn't exactly ordered him to _return_ the notebook to him…he'd just asked him to take it away from the rogue shinigami, and he'd done just that. So now, now that he'd fulfilled his task, Ryuk should be able to do whatever he wanted…right?

No, probably not.

He should probably just go back to the shinigami realm and give the boss his notebook. Then he could come back and drop Sidoh's notebook in the human world, and follow whatever human happened to pick it up. Yes…all around, it was a very bad idea to stay in the human world for any longer.

Oh, shit…had he just dropped one of the notebooks?

Ryuk's eyes practically popped out of his head as he saw one of the notebooks, its pages open and fluttering as it soared through the air like a caged animal escaping its master, falling down to the earth far, far below with a sense of betraying finality. As it fell, pages began to spit out from between the dark cover, flying up into the sky and vanishing as the breeze snatched them up and pushed them away. Well, it was a good thing the pages of the Death Note looked just like regular notebook paper—no one would ever suspect they were anything more than simple college-ruled pages.

A sudden fluttering sound drew Ryuk's attention back to the situation at hand, and he realized that in his momentary daze of surprise, the second notebook—not the one he'd stolen from Sidoh, which was currently spiraling towards the human realm, but the _other_ one—had slipped from his fingers. As in, the one that the old man had _specifically_ asked him to retrieve.

That was a problem.

"No, no, no!" Ryuk hissed under his breath, realizing suddenly that if he couldn't immediately retrieve the notebook, he would most likely be vaporized by the boss for his blunder. On one hand, it would mean no more boredom, no more endless weeks, months, _years_ of sitting around. On the other hand, it would mean no _life._ He'd be _dead._ And so with that in mind, Ryuk immediately turned, folded in his wings, and darted for the notebooks, which were flying towards the ground at impossible speeds. He caught up to the notebook he'd been sent to retrieve swiftly enough, and eagerly reached out to grab it. And just as planned, his spindly fingers gripped the edge of the notebook, he pulled it back towards himself, and—

About half the notebook's pages suddenly tore free from their respective places and spat downwards towards the ground.

…What had that rogue shinigami said about the pages containing some sort of crucial information? Something like, _those pages hold the key to saving the human realm…?_

Ryuk _really_ hoped that the shinigami was just insane. And he hoped even more that those pages, currently carving a path towards the ground in one massive lump, were not, in fact, the reason the boss had sent him to get the notebook in the first place. Because if they were…

Well—that death threat would probably end up being less of a threat, and more of a _literal death._

He _really_ didn't want to die.

And so Ryuk continued his hasty descent to the earth below, and had anyone walking the streets of the city below been able to see or hear the shinigami passing over their heads, they no doubt would have heard a loud shrieking sound, not unlike a pterodactyl, as said shinigami tried desperately to catch up to the second notebook and loose pages of the _first_ notebook before they hit the ground. In a moment's time he'd caught up to the loose pages, which were blackened with ink, covered in writing that didn't appear to consist of the names of humans. Had Ryuk not been trying to save his own life, he may very well have wondered why on earth a shinigami was wasting space in his Death Note by writing something other than names—but as he snatched up the clump of pages and darted towards the still-falling second notebook, it wasn't really the most pressing thing he had on his mind.

The city below was becoming much closer now as the notebook grew dangerously close to the ground. And as Ryuk barreled after it, all he could think was that it absolutely, under _no_ circumstances, could be allowed to hit the ground, because if hit the ground then there was always the possibility of a human picking it up, and Ryuk _really_ didn't want to have to follow said human around when the boss was waiting for him to return to the shinigami realm with the rogue shinigami's notebook in hand. Now, if he was here of his own accord, and he just so happened to drop his second notebook, he didn't think he'd be so opposed to seeing what might happen—but he was _not_ here of his own accord; he had specific orders to return to the shinigami realm _immediately,_ and if he didn't then he had no doubt that he'd be vaporized.

Oh, the notebook was _so close_ —just a few more feet and he could grab it, snatch it up and prevent the inevitable onslaught of the boss's anger. He reached out, fingers straining towards the black notebook, arm aching as he extended it to its full capacity in an attempt to prevent his own extinction, and then, just as it was about to hit the ground, just as it was about to fall into the human world—

He caught it.

The corner of the notebook was a mere centimeter from touching the ground, and _Ryuk_ had been just a mere centimeter away from death—but he'd caught it, it was in his possession, and now he could forget that the whole mess had ever happened.

A sudden breeze tore through the area in which he'd caught the notebook, nearly ripping the loose pages out of his hand. He hastily shoved said loose pages into one of the notebooks carelessly to keep them from flying away, and for the first time took in his surroundings.

An alleyway. Shadowy, damp, and clearly shady, the entire place was incredibly dark, and for a moment Ryuk wondered why until he looked up and saw that the moon was small in the sky, and the stars were covered by a layer of fog. The only light came from a very, _very_ dim streetlamp, which flickered uneasily in the darkness at unfixed intervals.

A shiver passed down Ryuk's spine, and he had the sudden, unnerving feeling that he was being watched. He threw a glance over each shoulder, shot a brief look up into the sky for any sign of another shinigami, but there was nothing. Hmm…perhaps he was becoming paranoid. It wasn't impossible. Shrugging, Ryuk spread his wings, preparing to take off for the shinigami realm, when something stopped him.

Sirens. Loud, blaring, sirens.

And a heartbeat later, the sound of heavy footsteps and ragged breathing, and a sudden dark shape emerging from the shadows.

Said dark shape was obviously human, and obviously injured. He lurched down the alleyway at a slow, jagged pace, clearly unaware that said alleyway came to a dead end several dozen feet ahead. A criminal, perhaps? Someone on the run from those sirens, which seemed to grow closer and closer with every passing moment?

The human stopped, leaning against the side of the alleyway, and clutched at his chest, breathing heavily. He'd obviously been running for quite some time, and was bleeding heavily from the leg. Psh. Not that Ryuk _cared_ or anything.

He should leave…the boss would be expecting him.

But still, something kept him there, staring at that pathetic little scrap of a human. He was curious, he realized. He wanted to see what would happen here.

And then, a moment later, he realized that staying had been a _very_ bad idea, as a voice suddenly screeched, "Give me my notebook back!"

Oh, no. _That_ was why he should have left for the shinigami realm the instant he got his hands on the second notebook.

The rogue shinigami, hair still sticking up, skin still sickly white, eyes still wide and crazed, was floating above him, fingers twitching as if he longed to reach out and snatch his notebook back. "Give it back!" he repeated, and his voice even _sounded_ crazy, even when he wasn't babbling on about life-saving notebook pages and warning "them" about the future. "Give me back my notebook!"

Ryuk immediately tucked said notebook tighter to his torso and shook his head, twisting his face into a nasty grin. "Sorry, bud. Boss's orders."

"Where is it?" the shinigami went on, acting as if he hadn't even heard Ryuk's explanation. "Give it to me!"

Geez…this guy was a real piece of work, wasn't he? Ryuk rolled his eyes and said again, "I told you, I _can't_ —"

And that was _all_ he said, for a moment later the shinigami was launching himself at him with a vicious screech, hands struggling to wrench his notebook from Ryuk's grasp. After that, things got a bit fuzzy—Ryuk thought that maybe he was kicking the other shinigami off him, and that said shinigami was retaliating with a crazed kick to the chest, and that his hands were wrenching at his Death Note, and that the rogue shinigami was frantically trying to knock him out of the air and pin him down for the sake of retrieving his notebook…but it was all quite fast and hard to keep track of, and so by the time Ryuk realized that he was actually _losing,_ and that the other shinigami was actually _strong,_ it was too late to stop him from wrapping his grubby little paws around his notebook and wrenching it from his grasp.

"Hey!" Ryuk protested as the shinigami drew away, his notebook clutched between his hands. "The boss wants that notebook, you dolt! Just give it to me now, and he won't send anyone else after you!"

The shinigami's eyes widened. "He's sending others after me?" he rasped, shaking like leaf at the prospect of being hunted down.

Ryuk crinkled up his nose, thinking to himself that this pathetic creature was a poor excuse for a shinigami, shaking like that, but all he said was, "Yeah, so you'd better give that notebook back, or the boss'll be after your hide!"

"He'll kill me," the rogue shinigami rasped, shaking his head, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his notebook harder. "But he can't! I've got to stay here, I've got to _change_ it!"

More nonsense about changing the future, or whatever? Ridiculous. "Look," Ryuk insisted, "you haven't got a choice. It's either handing the notebook over now, or being hunted down by one of the boss's lackeys." Ryuk realized then that _he_ was probably considered one of the boss's lackeys, and the thought nearly made him throw up, despite his distinct lack of a stomach and physical ability to actually do such a thing.

A sudden noise drew Ryuk's attention to the alleyway. The human had pushed himself away from the wall, and was steadily making his way towards the dead end. The sirens were growing louder now. If this was indeed a criminal, then he would be caught soon, it seemed.

The rogue shinigami shifted suddenly, holding his notebook tighter as his eyes flickered between Ryuk and the human below. "If that's the case," he began, and Ryuk suddenly _knew_ what he was thinking, "and either way, I'll be caught…" He reached out a hand, and for a moment Ryuk dared to think that he was handing over the notebook—but no, he was swooping downwards, scrawny wings stretched outwards, heading straight for the human with the Death Note extended in his direction.

"Stop that!" Ryuk screeched immediately, making a dive for the rogue shinigami, trying to stop the inevitable.

"I won't let you have it!" the shinigami wailed, and despite his scrawny appearance, he was _fast,_ and it took no time at all for him to outrun Ryuk as he bolted for the injured human. "I'll give it to a human before I let you take it to the boss!" He kicked Ryuk, whose hand was just beginning to close around his ankle, and threw the notebook as hard as he could at the human.

Ryuk could only watch as the Death Note he'd been ordered to retrieve struck the ground right in front of the human, and said human tripped over it and slammed knee-first into the thing. The human cried out, dazed, and barely managed to drag himself back into a kneeling position. He confusedly reached down with searching fingers, and the moment those fingers made contact with the notebook, it was over. Ryuk could practically _feel_ the moment the human took possession, the moment he was no longer able to just snatch it up and take it to the shinigami realm.

"I win!" the rogue shinigami exclaimed, crazed eyes widening impossibly.

"You do _not_ win!" Ryuk snarled, chest swelling with anger. His hand snapped to his Death Note, and he immediately flipped it open to the closest blank page, his pen appearing in his hand as he lowered it to the paper. "I'll kill the human and take the notebook before you can get to it!"

"You can't, you can't!" came the response.

Ryuk snapped, "What the hell do you mean I can't? Of course I can, I can see his name!"

"You can't kill him!" repeated the shinigami. He raised a finger, as if reciting something for a teacher, and announced, "Haven't you read the rulebook? Only a god of death that has passed on their Death Note to a human is able to kill an owner of the Death Note!"

"I've never heard such a thing; that's ridiculous!" Ryuk spat.

"Then try it," the shinigami challenged. "Try to kill him! Unless you've passed your notebook on to someone in the human world, you can't kill an owner of the Death Note!"

"Then I'll pass my _second_ notebook along, and I'll kill the human you gave your notebook to!"

"Second notebook?" The rogue shinigami looked alarmed, and Ryuk felt an acute sense of satisfaction that he'd caught him off guard. "You mean you had _two_ notebooks already? Before you even took mine?"

Ryuk just grinned in response.

The sirens were piercingly loud now. The human, still clutching the notebook, shot to his feet and looked down the alleyway. And then he turned, intent on running away from the sirens, and—

His eyes locked onto the rogue shinigami, who just so happened to be floating just a few feet behind him, and just above his head. And then there was a whole lot of screaming, lots of denying the existence of the "monster," and just a general lack of rational thought from the poor, confused human, who was suddenly being forced to register the fact that there was a shinigami staring him down.

And then there was the rather intrusive sound of static from some sort of megaphone, and someone, presumably a police officer, was screaming into the alleyway.

"Kou Hashimoto, we know you're here! Come forward with your hands up, and we won't shoot!"

The criminal, who had stopped screaming in favor of staring, blank-eyed, at the shinigami hovering before him, shook his head immediately. "Get away!" he screeched, and suddenly he was yelling again, wailing about the _demon_ staring him in the face.

A brief scuffle was heard on the other end of the megaphone, and suddenly that same voice was saying, "Sir, _no_ —you'll get hurt!"

And a dark, monotonous voice was snapping, " _I_ have the authority here, Chief Yagami. The subject is unarmed, and due to his incessant screaming, there is a ninety percent chance that his physical incapacity has induced a panic attack."

"You can't just—!"

"Please, Chief Yagami, quiet yourself. The sound of your voice is grating; it's been bad enough sitting in the police car with the sirens on full blast for hours on end without having to listen to you rambling on."

"Sir, I really must protest—"

And once again, that second voice cut him off. "I have not come this far to have you ruin things at the last moment. I am giving you a direct order to stand down and let me handle this. Do you understand, or do I need to repeat myself?"

Silence. Presumably, the police chief had relented. A moment later a second dark shape was making its way towards the criminal, who was still screaming threats at the rogue shinigami.

Ryuk rolled his eyes. This was becoming bothersome. "I have to give my notebook to a human, huh? Fine, then I'll give it to that guy and be done with it."

The other shinigami just stared, completely silent.

Unnerved, Ryuk turned around, and—

"What the hell?" he yelped, more than surprised to find himself staring into one slanted yellow eye. "Rem? What are you doing here?"

"Boss's orders," she said in a dull, monotonous voice. "You were taking too long, and he sent me to retrieve you."

"But the notebook is still—"

"He said to accept no excuses. He also said that if you don't return to him immediately, he'll kill you."

Another death threat. Great. Just what he needed. "Let me just get that notebook," Ryuk insisted, gesturing vaguely towards the criminal, who was in the process of being pinned and handcuffed by a young man with dark hair, darker eyes, and a painful-looking slouch. The criminal was still screaming, of course, telling the person currently placing him under arrest that he needed to arrest the monster, not him—and said person, clearly unamused, was swiftly and calmly reading him his rights.

"You're not going to do anything," Rem said flatly. "You are to return to the boss now, or you'll be killed."

"I'm sure he won't mind if—"

"If you do anything else before coming with me, I've been ordered to report it," came the dull response.

Ryuk turned his steely glare on the rogue shinigami, who was simply sitting back, enjoying the show. "Fine," he growled in a low tone. "Don't think this is over, guy. I'll drop my notebook on some poor, unsuspecting human and write that criminal's name down the instant I get the chance. And when that happens, I'll come after you and get it back. Understand?"

The rogue shinigami's eyes widened fearfully. A moment later he was turning on heel and darting away, vanishing into the night without a trace. And it was a good thing too, because just as he vanished from sight, that dark-haired human picked up the notebook curiously and riffled through the pages briefly. The criminal, handcuffed and shaking violently, shook his head without halt. Hah…Ryuk couldn't contain a grin as he observed the mortal's obvious terror. Now _there_ was someone who wouldn't be recovering anytime soon. Oh well—what was the life of one little human worth? Not much.

"Ryuk," Rem urged flatly.

He grumbled some sort of response noncommittally, turning away and following her up towards the entrance to the shinigami realm. Ooh, the boss would have his head for this! He'd had one job, _one job,_ and he'd blown it! What if the boss killed him? He hadn't even gotten a chance to drop a notebook in the human world! He couldn't die without subjecting some poor mortal to the horrors of the notebook! Ryuk raised the second notebook, the one that he'd stolen from Sidoh, up to his face and riffled through the pages mournfully. Oh, how heartbreaking it was, to have been so close to being able to give a notebook to a human…

Hmm? What was this?

Ryuk frowned, realizing that there was a chunk of loose pages in Sidoh's notebook. He removed said pages with a deep frown, poking at them with his unoccupied hand. Oh—he knew these pages! These were the pages that had fallen out of the rogue shinigami's notebook! Huh…how strange…he'd thought that he'd stuffed them back into the other shinigami's notebook, but apparently in his haste he'd shoved them into Sidoh's instead. It appeared that half of the original pages had found their way to Sidoh's old notebook.

Once again, he remembered the rogue shinigami's insistence that the pages of his notebook held the key to preventing some kind of horrible tragedy.

…Losing a fair chunk of pages from said notebook wouldn't change that, would it? Was losing this many pages dangerous? Would it affect the rogue shinigami's so-called life-saving notebook?

He sure hoped not—but then again, the shinigami was insane. He probably had no idea what he was talking about, and his whole speech about saving the future of the human world had most likely been a product of several hundred years spent alone in said world. Ryuk was worrying for nothing.

Hopefully.

Ryuk shrugged and stuffed the loose pages back into Sidoh's notebook. He supposed that he shouldn't really care about the fate of the human world—after all, it was quite likely that the boss was about to kill him for his blunder.

Oh well…at least he got to have a _bit_ of fun before his death.

†††

_This isn't usually my kind of thing…_

L clutched tightly onto the edge of his seat as Soichiro Yagami, chief of the NPA, cut the wheel of the police car to the left and nearly flipped the vehicle clean over. In fact, if he'd turned it any harder, L had no doubt that it would have done something of a barrel roll—no, more of an aileron roll—and landed back on its wheels. And what was more, Chief Yagami probably wouldn't have even paused in his frantic pursuit of Kou Hashimoto.

Kou Hashimoto…he was the informant for an underground organization involved with human trafficking—and for the past several months, he had been the bane of L's existence. The bastard was just _so damn elusive,_ and no matter what L tried, he seemed completely uncatchable. It'd gotten so bad that after two months of searching endlessly for Kou, or for _anyone_ involved with his vile occupation, L had done the unthinkable—he'd asked for help.

More specifically, he'd asked for the NPA's help. The chief of the NPA, Soichiro Yagami, was someone he'd heard much about from various digital reports and other sources of importance, but he'd never had the chance to work with or even _see_ the man. The most he knew about him was that he was regarded as one of the best chiefs the NPA had ever seen, and that was more than enough for him. It wasn't as if he'd need his help on more than this one case, anyways, so it hardly seemed worth it to get to know him on a personal level. Besides, if he ended up dying during the race to catch Kou, he didn't want to feel any guiltier than was necessary. It was best to just stay detached.

While the NPA hadn't exactly done much in terms of actually locating Kou, they'd done more than L ever could have dreamed in terms of helping him actually catch him. After L had finally, _finally_ caught a break in the case—a victim who'd managed to escape and contact the police—he'd immediately sent out all available units to Kou's location in hopes of bringing him in. His location was quite mundane, really. It seemed a bit ridiculous that after so many months of searching, he was staying in a hotel a few blocks down from the NPA investigation offices. But no matter—the hotel was informed of what was happening, and a few minutes later the entire place was surrounded. L stayed in the car as Chief Yagami and a squad of officers headed inside and up to Kou's room. L listened in via headset while they headed up the many, many flights of stairs (the elevators were down), and heard every word when they kicked down the door and found—surprise, surprise—no one. Kou was gone. The window was wrenched open, and dirty footprints led straight over the windowsill and to the streets below.

After that, Soichiro had come barreling back downstairs, slipped behind the wheel of the police car L was currently riding in, and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. He repeatedly stated that he refused to lose Kou—they'd spent too long tracking him, spent too many resources attempting to catch him, to let him slip away now. And L, having objection to such a notion, said nothing, even when Soichiro nearly sent the car into a complete three hundred and sixty degree flip. He dug his fingernails into the seat, made sure his seatbelt was pressed snugly across his hips and chest, and steeled himself for the fury-induced spasticity that was Soichiro Yagami's driving.

It was at that point that L realized that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have come along. He'd never been one for fieldwork—he'd only ever showed his face to one agent before this, and it had only been for a few minutes at most—but here he was, trying not to lose his lunch as, _again,_ Soichiro made a hard left. Oh, his beautiful lunch… so many pastries and sweets… Unfortunately, it seemed as if all of those delicious treats and various confectionaries were about to be reintroduced to open air via L's mouth. If Soichiro made another one of those ridiculous turns, he was certain that his body would end up forcibly riding itself of all previously consumed goods—and then Soichiro _did_ make another harsh turn, a right one this time, and L had to throw open the window and stick his head out to avoid vomiting all over the interior of the squad car.

"Ryuzaki?" Soichiro called over the wail of the sirens. "Are you all right?"

L nearly threw up again as Soichiro shot him a concerned look. "Focus _on the road,_ Chief Yagami!" he ordered, clamping a hand over his mouth. "I will be quite all right, but only if you don't crash this vehicle!"

A voice suddenly flooded in via radio. _"The subject has just entered the alleyway running between Blue Haven and the Sonata Café. Should we move to intercept?"_

L vaguely heard Soichiro ordering a few cars to head to the other end of the alley, and he swiftly informed him that the alleyway did, in fact, lead to a dead end. That made things easier. But his words to Soichiro didn't register in his own brain, for he was too busy finding amusement in the fact that Kou had taken refuge in the alleyway leading between a club and a bar.

The car suddenly screeched to a halt, and L was nearly thrown out of his seat, despite the protective band of polyester that made up his seatbelt. Soichiro immediately threw open his door and withdrew his gun, pointing into the alley. Kou was not yet in sight, and he was no doubt unarmed, but Soichiro still ordered all of his officers to aim their guns point-blank into the darkness, just in case he attempted to escape. Soichiro reached for a megaphone with one hand and held it up to his mouth, and the next moment was roaring, "Kou Hashimoto, we know you're here! Come forward with your hands up, and we won't shoot!"

Oh, dear…well, he supposed this was a logical reaction. He'd hoped to go about it with a bit more tact, maybe try to convince Kou that he was doing him a favor by taking him into custody rather than shooting him then and there…but it seemed that Soichiro was dead set on taking the more violent route. That just wouldn't do—and so L reached forward and attempted to take the megaphone, fully intent upon rectifying Soichiro's wrong. But the man pulled back, clearly unwilling to release said megaphone, and L knew immediately that words would be useless. Well, then—he'd just have to go and arrest Kou himself. After all this, he couldn't handle it if one of the police officers felt threatened by Kou's proximity and shot him without thinking. If he walked into the alleyway, then the chance of Kou being shot decreased by, oh, say…thirty percent. Maybe thirty-five. Still, he'd risked his life on lesser odds than that before, and he'd always won. This would be no different.

And so he shrugged, released the megaphone, tucked his hands into his pockets, and began to head down the alleyway towards Kou, who had just begun screaming. Maybe he was beginning to panic about being caught? No matter—he'd be caught either way, and after that, L could interrogate him as to the location of the rest of his friends. The whole operation would be brought to its knees, and all victims would be rehabilitated and sent back into the society from which they were snatched. Game over. The end.

There was a sudden, audible gasp from Soichiro's direction, clearly amplified by the megaphone, and he was suddenly yelping, "Sir, _no_ —you'll get hurt!"

L rolled his eyes, turning back to face the chief of the NPA. " _I_ have the authority here, Chief Yagami," he reminded him. "The subject is unarmed, and due to his incessant screaming, there is a ninety percent chance that his physical incapacity has induced a panic attack."

"You can't just—!"

"Please, Chief Yagami, quiet yourself. The sound of your voice is grating; it's been bad enough sitting in the police car with the sirens on full blast for hours on end without having to listen to you rambling on."

"Sir, I really must protest—"

"I have not come this far to have you ruin things at the last moment. I am giving you a direct order to stand down and let me handle this. Do you understand, or do I need to repeat myself?"

Soichiro stood there, mouth opening and closing repeatedly like some sort of humanoid fish, and made small choking noises.

L turned back towards the alleyway and casually strolled into it, momentarily straightening to crack his back before allowing himself to fall back into his signature slouch. His white shirt swished loosely around him as he moved; his jeans brushed lightly against the pale flesh of his legs. And his feet, uncovered as per usual, picked up countless layers of dirt as he trudged through the narrow space lining the two establishments, both of which pounding with loud music and flashing with light.

Kou was still screaming, even as L grew close enough to see him. "Demon!" he wailed as the detective approached. "Hellspawn! Kill it, kill it, you have to kill it!"

L frowned, one brow shooting up to grow acquainted with his hairline. "Demon?" he repeated. "I assure you, Mr. Hashimoto, I am no demon. If anyone, _you_ are the demon here, for giving your coconspirators the information necessary to elude the authorities for so long. Your actions have cost Japan the lives of sixteen young adults, and the mysterious disappearance of thirty-four others."

"You can't see it? You can't see that…that…that _thing?_ " Kou made frantic, wide gestures towards the sky above him, and L immediately suspected that he was either stalling, trying to distract him so he could attack, or both.

"There is nothing there Mr. Hashimoto, and I'm afraid that you're under arrest."

"No, no, no!" he screamed immediately, still gesturing wildly at the sky. "Kill it, kill it, kill it! Kill it, not me! Not me!"

…Or there was the third option: that after so long running from the police, and after injuring his leg, presumably during his jump from the window of his hotel room, he had simply snapped and had gone insane. Completely, irrationally, _undeniably_ insane.

L, feeling entirely too tired to consider the possibility that he'd gone through so much only to find himself in possession of a half-crazed captive, decided that he'd heard more than enough. He'd take him into custody, make sure he was away from the NPA, and interrogate him to his heart's content. The whole _insanity_ thing would have to wait.

With one, swift, fluid motion, L snatched Kou by the collar and hauled him up, shoving him against the wall of the alley. He wasted no time in reading Kou his rights, struggling to make himself heard over the man's incessant screeching. Of course, he knew, the instant he had Kou alone and separated from the NPA, all of his so-called _rights_ would be thrown out the window. L would do anything it took to get information out of him.

"Mr. Hashimoto, please hand over the notebook," L requested, noticing for the first time the black notebook clasped between both hands. Records, perhaps? Records of the people who passed through the vile business he worked in? It was evidence, most certainly—and L was most definitely not going to allow Kou to keep the thing.

Kou shook his head, his fingers tightening on the notebook. His gaze was still locked on the space above L's head, staring at something only he could see, and he was clearly terrified. The more L saw, the more he became convinced that he was dealing with a lunatic.

"Mr. Hashimoto," he said again. "The _notebook._ " He closed his fingers on the notebook and pulled, and this time, the man let go without a fight. L immediately turned, on a hunch, to stare at the space behind him, as if by touching the notebook he might be led to see the monster Kou was describing—but as expected, there was nothing there. And of _course_ there wasn't; why would there be?

"Ryuzaki!" came a loud voice, and once again L was driven to roll his eyes as Soichiro screamed his alias into the alleyway, no doubt wishing to know if he was still alive. "Ryuzaki, do you require assistance?"

L sighed, slapping a pair of handcuffs on Kou, and paused to flip through the notebook briefly. He sucked in a deep breath as he realized that every page was practically _black_ with ink. Every inch of free space was marked on, completely filled with tiny lines of writing. The writing was so small, in fact, that L had a hard time reading it without squinting—and he certainly didn't have the time to examine the writing just yet anyways, and so he finished riffling through the pages one time for anything of interest (at about the halfway point, he noted, there appeared to be quite a large chunk of pages missing, and after that the pages became completely blank save for a few stray marks), and tucked the notebook under his arm. One hand shot up and twined into the back of Kou's collar, and the next moment he was dragging his struggling captive back towards the entrance to the alleyway.

"Ryuzaki!" Soichiro called again. "Are you—?"

"Yes, Chief Yagami," L sighed, "I am quite all right."

Soichiro's eyes widened as he caught sight of L, hauling Kou towards the line of police officers. "Stand down!" he ordered immediately, and a dozen guns lowered in sync. "You have him, Ryuzaki!" he exclaimed. "Good, now we'll just get him into the police car and take him to the station, and—"

"No, Chief Yagami."

"What? What do you mean _no?"_

And _this_ was the part where the chief of the NPA became very, very upset with his situation.

"Ryuzaki, you're not seriously telling me that after all this work, all these months of tracking this…this _criminal_ down, you're not going to let us take custody of him! You don't have the authority to just—"

"Chief Yagami," L interrupted. "I am L's mouthpiece, as you well know. And as is such, what I do and what I say comes from L himself. He has ordered me to take Kou Hashimoto back to a location that is not to be released to the NPA, and that is exactly what I will do. No matter how much you might disapprove, I am taking Mr. Hashimoto to said location, and there is nothing the police can do to stop me."

And once again, Soichiro was reduced to a spluttering, gasping mess. "You can't—I won't let you—!"

L's eyes raked the curb just beyond the line of police cars, and he saw with satisfaction that there was a limo awaiting his arrival, just as planned. Watari wasn't a moment too soon. L purposefully gripped Kou's collar tighter. The man was still babbling, but his volume had fallen considerably, so it was nigh impossible to hear what he was saying unless one was prepared to strain their ears. He yanked Kou past Soichiro, past the line of police officers, and in between two of the police cars.

"Ryuzaki—!" Soichiro tried one last time.

"Good day, Chief Yagami," was the response. L could practically _feel_ the anger rolling off Soichiro in waves, in oceans themselves, but he knew that the man would make no move to stop him. Despite his anger, despite the frustration he felt at having Kou snatched away from him, he knew that he could do nothing. This was L's request, after all, and L's requests were always met. If he wanted something, there was nothing he could do to stop it. L was L, and L was all-powerful.

L reached the limo, wrenched open the door, and just as planned, there was a syringe waiting for him on the back seat. He immediately snatched the thing up. One press of thin steel to Kou's neck had the man falling over, and the next moment he was stretched out across the back seat of the limo, heavily sedated. Satisfied, L swiftly closed the door, moving to the driver's side seat and slipping into it with practiced ease. He drew his knees up to his chest, a feat he hadn't been able to accomplish during Soichiro's frantic, screeching drive across the streets of the moderately small city in the Kanto region of Japan.

"L?" came a comfortingly familiar voice. "The mission went well, I presume?"

"Yes," L responded coolly. "Kou is in our possession. Tomorrow morning I will break all contact with the NPA, and we will extract the necessary information from Kou. Within three days, I predict the downfall of his pathetic excuse for a gang." It went unsaid that the _pathetic_ gang Kou worked for had kept L searching for them for upwards of three months.

"Excellent. To the warehouse, then?"

"With haste, Watari. The sooner we crack Kou open the better."

Ignoring the inelegant phrasing, Watari responded, "At once." He urged the limo into motion, and L found himself sighing with relief to be back in the car with his old mentor rather than Soichiro Yagami. He might have been an excellent agent, but the same couldn't be said of his driving, especially when he was in a panic. L reached out with the aim of circling his arms around his knees, but froze as something suddenly fell from between his upper arm and his side, fluttering down and striking his seat noisily.

Hmm? What was that?

Oh, yes—the notebook! L had nearly forgotten about the notebook Kou had been holding at the time of his arrest. Now he grasped it between his thumb and pointer finger, dangling it above his knees and staring intently.

_Death…Note? Death Note?_

It was English, L noted. Unusual, for a notebook found in Japan in possession of a Japanese man who hadn't taken so much as a year of English in high school. L ran his fingers over the cover curiously. The white lettering on the front, written in occult-esque font, was slightly raised to the touch, and slightly ragged with age. It was old—much older than Kou, who was barely on his twenty-third year. Just how had he come across something as old as this?

Frowning, L opened the notebook. There, on the inside cover—How to Use It? How to use what? The notebook itself? The…the _Death Note?_

"What do you have there, L?" Watari questioned curiously, barely taking his eyes off the road long enough to see what L was holding.

"Just a notebook the suspect was holding," L murmured by way of response, running a thumb across his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I thought that it might be a piece of valuable evidence, so I brought it with me, but…"

Watari waited patiently for a long moment. But when L made no move to continue his statement, he urged, "But what, L?"

"Oh…" L trailed off thoughtfully, eyes still locked on the first white lettering spread across the inside cover. "It's nothing, I'm sure, Watari. Just a prank…" L read it again. Then again. And then a fourth time, and a fifth. "A prank…" he repeated slowly, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until he saw the strange look Watari was giving him.

A prank, a joke, a trick…just something written for fun, L assured himself. Nothing to be concerned with.

But still…

_The human whose name is written in the note shall die._

Wouldn't it be interesting if…?

No—L immediately snuffed that train of thought, slamming the cover of the notebook shut without bothering to read any further. It was just a play on words, he told himself—after all, he knew better than all others that all humans, without fail, would eventually die. By that logic, he could pick up any scrap of paper, write any human's name, and said human would die. It might take a few dozen years, but it would happen. Be it by disease, accident, or car crash (most likely due to Soichiro Yagami's atrocious method of driving, L mused), the human would, someday, cease to exist. And _that_ was why it had to be a play on words and not, in fact, a literal statement.

…Right?

L couldn't resist another peek inside.

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name._

L blinked. A name and a face…? His eyes immediately scanned the rest of the page, and—

_If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

L closed the notebook again, this time a bit more gently. It was quite detailed, for a prank. He wondered if Kou wrote down the names of the people who passed through his gang's hands, and as a cruel joke, wrote the rules stating that the people belonging to those names would die. But then, he wouldn't exactly have included that bit about the heart attack, or specifying the kind of death, now, would he? Unless he was just some sort of sadist who liked to imagine the violent, brutal deaths of those around him, and he'd just projected his need for those deaths in the creation of the notebook…

Slowly, as if he were a small child doing something he knew he shouldn't, L pied open the notebook for a third time and read the first couple of words. He shut the notebook again. And then he opened it a moment later, for he absolutely _could not_ understand what he'd just read.

And so he read it again. Closed the notebook. Opened it. Read it again. Closed it. Repeated the whole process several times.

"L?" Watari asked, sensing the detective's obvious discomfort. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit…disturbed."

"I told you, it's nothing," L said, but his voice was shaking considerably now. "Just a prank; someone's sick, twisted joke."

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

L read the first few words again. "No," he said decisively. "Most certainly not." He vaguely saw Watari nod, ever unobtrusive, and resign himself to driving in silence. And meanwhile, L slowly ran his fingers over the cover of the Death Note. He shouldn't open it again, he shouldn't read any further than those first, stomach-jarring words—words that were _not_ names, but the beginning of some kind of story, as if Kou was using the notebook for his own amusement. That in and of itself wouldn't have been so strange, if not for one, significant, _blaring_ detail. And that detail just so happened to be one letter, consisting of two lines, adorning the first line of the first page.

L. The letter L, specifically written as a name. L's _name_ was in this notebook—not his whole name, but just the first letter, just the letter he used as his detective code.

Just what the hell was his name doing in Kou's notebook? And in the form of some sort of sick _story,_ no less? Just what was going on here?

_No_. L closed the notebook. No, he would not continue reading. He wouldn't give Kou the pleasure of knowing that his little notebook had caught his attention.

He set his jaw and leaned back in his seat, refusing to look at the notebook.

It was _staring_ at him. L continued to ignore it.

It continued to stare, and he ignored it some more.

He would not look. He would _not._

But…maybe just a little more wouldn't hurt? He could read just long enough to figure out just what Kou had been writing in the Death Note, and then he could just close it, or destroy it, or file it as evidence.

Yeah…that sounded good.

Swiftly but guiltily, L opened the notebook once more and began to read. 


	2. Tiwaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support on the first chapter, it's nice to hear from people who enjoy my writing! I'm not sure, but I think that some of my formatting on the last chapter may have been messed up just a bit (i.e. page breaks, lack of italics...). Like I said, I'm not sure it actually got messed up or not, but in any case, I've fixed the mistake now. Anyways, I hope you like the chapter!

It had been approximately fourteen hours since Kou Hashimoto had been taken into custody, and L hadn't been in to interrogate him even once.

This was quite strange, of course, seeing as L wasn't normally one to shirk his responsibilities. He'd always been the same way—work for weeks on end without halt, catch wind of a lead, follow said lead, catch the criminal, put said criminal in jail, rinse, repeat. For weeks, for months, for years, and now for almost two decades, that had been the pattern. It was always the same. It was quite amusing, actually—whenever people thought of professional investigators, they always thought something along the lines of, _oh, wow! You must never have a boring day at work!_ But that was just the thing—the job, as sad as it was, was boring in lack of routine. Of course, to anyone out the outside, that phrase just sounded ridiculous. How the hell could something be boring because it _wasn't_ routine? It was the repetitive jobs that were the worst, the argument ran. The jobs that sat you down in an office chair and kept you there indefinitely. The jobs that stuck you away in a corner and ignored you for a few decades until you retired. And that, L thought dismally, was where the catch-22 laid. For no matter what other people thought, his job _was_ routine. The same thing, over and over. The names and faces might change, but the outcome remained the same. Always some pathetic excuse for a criminal, beaten beyond recognition by the police officers sent to retrieve him, screaming about how he'd been set up, and how the police were making a terrible mistake in arresting him. After that, there came the mandatory paperwork (normally taken care of by Watari) and reports that had to be filled out. It was all very boring, and took far too long. And by the time one form had been filled out, L had caught at least twelve more criminals in much the same matter, and there were even _more_ forms and files that had to be sifted through, and it was all just quite mundane. That sad, decrepit process would just keep repeating, over and over, for as long as L would allow it. And he really didn't have much of a choice but to allow it, for if he wasn't out catching criminals, what would he do? Once again—a catch-22, all boiling down to an idea that could be expressed in as little as three words.

L was bored.

He tried to deny it, tried to blot it out with the constant consumption of sweets and constant calculation of percentages, but it never seemed to work. His cases always seemed to go the same way—swiftly, boringly, and above all else, _mundanely_. He was always moving, always darting from place to place in search of something new, something better, something interesting. It was well known that the detective L only got involved in cases when, A, there were over ten bodies, B, when there was several million dollars at stake, or C, he was personally interested in the case. And there was that word again, the source of all L's problems— _interest._ What was he _interested_ in?

Again…nothing.

The closest he'd ever come to being interested in something was that case two years ago in which B.B., an old acquaintance of his, went on an unprecedented killing spree in Los Angeles. Incidentally, that was also the only case other than the one he was currently taking on in which he'd shown his face to an agent. Naomi Misora, the agent had been. She was quite an excellent worker; it was a shame her fiancé had made her cease all fieldwork shortly after L finished working with her. But that was beside the point—all that really mattered about that particular tale was that the person of L's interest was caught and landed in a California prison he didn't know the name of, and hadn't left since. After that, things fell back into a normal pattern, and once again, L could find no one to be his equal. He just sat there, day in and day out, solving cases and wondering if he would _ever_ find anyone worthy of being his _friend,_ as it were.

And _that_ train of thought was one that he'd followed more times than he cared to admit, and it always landed him at the same, depressing conclusion. And that conclusion, just like the previous conclusion, could be described in three simple words. Three, arguably simple words that made absolutely no sense when strung together in the way that so often flitted through L's mind.

L was… _lonely?_

It always came out like that when he thought it. Always a question, because no matter how many times L tried to make himself say it straight up, lacking the normal coat of sweetener, a question mark inevitably sank its claws into the curve of the last letter and refused to let go. Lonely… _lonely._ The word tasted like poison on his tongue—and if he allowed himself to swallow that bitter poison, to accept the reality that so frequently stared him in the face, then he feared that his heart would cease to function in his chest. Lonely…that abominable word had such a negative connotation, and with good reason. But L, for all his intelligence, wasn't entirely sure what it meant. It seemed to mean a different thing to each person, really—so what did it mean to him? He would have thought, what with his twenty-four (nearly twenty-five) years of experience with the concept of loneliness, that he would have puzzled out just what it meant to him by now. But still, every time he came anywhere near close to realizing just what the monster in the back of his mind looked like, it just crawled back under the metaphorical bed and stayed there. And most of the time, L was content to let it stay exactly where it wanted. He didn't have time to be lonely, or bored, or whatever else he might have been feeling at the current moment in time. But sometimes, a strange sort of… _longing_ started up, and L suddenly found himself uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was, no matter how hard he attempted to deny it, in a next to constant state of loneliness. Perhaps it would be good for him to seek out a friend, or some manner of companion. Perhaps a cat?

L actually laughed aloud at the thought of purchasing a cat, thinking to himself that if he had a feline companion, he might actually become the _definition_ of insanity. The crazy hair, the wide, wild eyes, the pale skin, the slouch…throw in a cat, and he thought that he might live up to the title of _crazy cat lady…_ minus the _lady_ part of that whole equation, and several dozen cats. So…did that just make him _crazy?_

Again, it was concept he wasn't eager to think about.

In fact, it was so unpleasant that L was suddenly snapping back to attention in an effort to expel the thought from his mind. He found himself staring up at the white plaster ceiling of his hotel room, and was immediately confused. The last thing he remembered, he'd been in the car with Watari after dropping Kou into a completely secure room at the abandoned Yellow Box warehouse, heading for the nearest hotel. Their plan was simple enough—securely bind Kou hand and foot and leave him in a locked, empty room in the warehouse they'd chosen to interrogate him in. Next, set up security cameras around the premises just in case someone happened to enter the warehouse while they were away. After that, drive to the nearest hotel and stay the night. This was, of course, another one of Watari's attempts to get him to sleep more. His mentor, the man who served as his only source of interaction, was always quite concerned with his sleep patterns and dietary choices, and was constantly trying to get him to act like a normal, productive member of society. Of course, it very rarely amounted to anything. L was quite surprised that he'd fallen asleep this time around—normally Watari's efforts were fruitless, and he ended up sitting awake in bed, working on solving whatever case caught his attention. But this time, it seemed the exertion of physically involving himself in a case mixed with Soichiro's driving had exhausted him beyond the help of sweets. Judging by the serious gap in his memories, he'd fallen asleep in the car, and Watari had…what? Carried him up here? How kind of him.

Slowly, stiffly, L pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. Watari was most likely located in his bedroom, or perhaps in the foyer, checking up on the security footage from the night before. There was less than a two percent chance that anyone would enter the abandoned warehouse within the limited number of hours L was away, but less than two percent was still plenty likely for L's tastes, and so he'd specifically ordered Watari to keep a careful watch on the camera watching the main entrance. L knew that he would only be away from the warehouse for five hours, six at the most, so there was really no danger of—

Wait a minute. L had _ordered_ Watari to wake him up at five in the morning if he happened to fall asleep. So why the hell did the alarm clock on the bedside table clearly read _two o'clock PM?_ It had been just over _fourteen hours_ since L had fallen asleep—which meant that the probability of Kou being found had just increased from two percent to seven, and those were _not_ odds to be ignored in L's experience.

Stricken by the thought that the odds of his captive escaping were nearly entering double digits, L launched himself out of bed, fully intent upon charging out into the foyer to yell at his treacherous companion, when—

Something caught his attention. There was a sharp glint emanating from the desk across the small bedroom, catching the dull light from the sun, streaming in through a crack in the curtains. Frowning, L took a moment to stretch out his stiff limbs, realizing with distaste that the fingers of his right hand were completely deadened. He flexed them, wincing as uncomfortable tingles raced up and down his limb. Then, slowly rubbing life back into his fingers as he went, he moved towards the glint on light, careful toes. What was that strange burst of light, illuminating a small portion of the desk? Was there something he was forgetting from the previous night…?

As L moved closer, his eyes found their way around the sun's reflection off the desk, and he was suddenly face to face with a thin black notebook, the glossy cover having been the thing that so perfectly conducted the sunbeams.

Notebook. White lettering. Black exterior.

The Death Note.

…And just like that, L realized that he _was_ forgetting something from the night before—arguably the _most important_ something, and certainly the something that was the most interesting. The Death Note, Kou's little toy. His _joke._ L had begun reading while in the backseat of his limo, and had stopped reading approximately ten minute into the drive, after exactly seven and a half pages. It was at that point that he deemed every word written in the damn notebook to be completely and absolutely ridiculous, and slammed it shut without a second thought—and this time, he didn't reopen it. The only reason he hadn't chucked the thing into the trash was the fact that as much as he wanted nothing to do with it, he had an obligation to read it. It may have some kind of evidence, after all, regarding Kou's gang. And if that was indeed the case, then L had no choice but to read it through to its conclusion. But the thought of reading another word made L sick—what exactly had been going through Kou's head when he wrote the words so frantically scribbled in the Death Note? Words, L thought with distaste, that formed some sort of sick, twisted _story_. A story that had his _name_ in it—or at least, his detective name. Just why the hell had Kou been writing about him? And this…this _K,_ whoever he was. It was completely absurd.

It was foolish…and L had to read more. He hated that he had to read more. He wanted to shove the vile notebook under the bed and leave it there for the hotel staff to find and dispose of. He had to open up that damn book and let the offensive words in, let them flow through his mind and pollute every inch of his being. He wasn't quite sure why he found Kou's writing so horribly invasive…it was simply a gut feeling, and L's feelings of that nature were _never_ unfounded. There was just something about the story, something about the way Kou had written it, the way he so confidently referenced supernatural forces…it made him shudder.

But no matter how much the story unnerved him, it was just that—a story—and so although he very much heeded the warnings his intuition was sending him, L still had no problem dismissing the story as nothing more than the ramblings of a crazed man.

And then there were the _rules_ written on the inside cover of the notebook. Rules about heart attacks, names, faces, memories, eyes… Why had Kou written the rules in the first place? There weren't even any names written in the notebook…all the "characters" in Kou's twisted little story were represented by letters, as far as L could tell. L was _L_ , obviously, and then there was K, and so far, that was it. No other letters, no other names. No names at all. The rules were just…there. They were pointless, it seemed.

Well…pointless unless they were actually…you know… _real._

_Slam!_

L's fist made contact with the desk harshly, and a moment later he yelped, drawing his hand away and shaking it instinctively, which really only succeeded in making the pain worse. But the pain was okay as far as L was concerned, for it was taking his mind of that tiny inkling of a doubt that was slowly building in his mind. A doubt, as treacherous as it was, that maybe, just maybe, the notebook was…

_Slam!_

L felt the flesh of his knuckles split as he mindlessly pounded his fist into the desk for a second time. _No…_ he thought furiously. _I will not allow my boredom to drive me to groundless conclusions. I've always been able to focus my boredom on more productive matters—that should be no different now. I'll go interrogate Kou, I'll solve a few more minor cases, I'll stuff myself full of Japanese sweets…but I will_ not _allow myself to entertain such a ridiculous notion that the notebook is even remotely functional. It is a prank, nothing more, nothing less. And that story, so to speak, is nothing more than the manifestation of Kou's delusions._

Ah, that was it! L very nearly clapped his hands together with delight, but stopped himself when he realized just how strange it would seem. Instead he allowed a small smile to curve his lips as he thought, with some excitement— _I'll interrogate Kou, that's what I'll do! If I'm so concerned with the notebook, then I'll just make him tell me that it's fake. After that, I'll be able to read the rest of his little story without fear._

L groaned, leaning his head back, tugging on his hair lightly as he realized that he'd just described an emotion _he_ was feeling as _fear._ Oh, how the mighty had fallen. That was just what boredom did, he supposed—it got under your skin, leaked into your bloodstream, spread further with every beat of your heart. It was a terrible amplifier of emotion, and even the smallest shred of fear (which, as unfortunate as it was, was most definitely making itself known at the moment) could become dangerously potent if left unchecked. Which was why, he decided, it would _not_ be left unchecked—he would force Kou to tell him just how fake the notebook was, just how foolish he was for even _beginning_ to fear that it could be real. After that, he would be able to wash his hands of the whole mess and go back to normal.

Normal…

L cringed at the way the word echoed emptily around his head. Normal meant boring, and boring meant…well…

L either couldn't finish such a phrase. He didn't want to think about boredom anymore. He didn't want to think about how the dull poison had slowly been seeping through his veins, more and more, faster and faster, for most of his life. He didn't want to think about how the poison had been rather slow at first, easy dissuaded by a simple antidote of sugar or a particularly complex case. He didn't want to think about how that poison had grown stronger and stronger as time went on, overcoming next to all of his attempts to treating it. And certainly, by no means, did he wish to think about the fact that for the past two months exactly, that poison had grown unbearable. He'd just become so _bored_ as of late…so deeply, crushingly bored…if he could just find something different, some other way of keeping his brain occupied, _other_ than the endless number of cases…

Right—not thinking about it. _Not_ thinking about it.

There was a sudden knock at the door.

"L?" Watari's voice echoed softly.

L swallowed hard, fighting his voice into its dull monotone, and answered in his trademark bored tone, "Yes, Watari, I am here. What is it you require?"

The door handle clicked, and the next moment the wooden slat was swinging inwards, revealing to L the form of his old mentor. "I heard shuffling," the inventor explained, "and presumed that you might have awoken. You are aware of the time, no? You slept for quite some time."

"I am aware," L muttered. "Did I not instruct you to awaken me at five o'clock exactly?" Watari moved further into the room, and L noticed suddenly that he was carrying a tray of English pastries. Breakfast, no doubt. Although, he mused, it was a bit late. Perhaps brunch, or an early lunch?

"You did. But you needed your sleep, and I felt that Kou was not in any danger of being found. After you eat, I've made the necessary preparations for Kou's interrogation. We should go to him as soon as possible."

Boring. It was _boring._ Would it kill Watari to add at least _some_ level of inflection to his voice? Or at least some colorful adjectives? _Something?_

"L?"

And of course, he'd paused just a moment too long in his response, and Watari was already growing concerned. "Forgive me, Watari," he said, carefully composing each word. "I lost myself in thought for a moment there. But yes, after I eat, I would like nothing more than to interrogate Kou." He reached deliberately for the smallest pastry and brought it to his lips, not realizing what flavor it was until it was already between his teeth. He expected some sort of response from Watari, but all he received was a short nod before the inventor turned and left. He could no doubt sense L's dismal mood, which had been rearing its ugly head more and more often lately. Another sign of boredom. Fantastic. Just what he needed. He'd really have to work on getting it under control.

Yes, get it under control…just like he'd been trying to do for his whole life _._

L shook his head violently to clear it of the undesirable thoughts, swiftly shoving half a pastry into his mouth. Hmm…strawberry. His favorite. Too bad it tasted like cardboard due to his nerves. He swallowed painfully, wincing as the lump of frosted pastry stuck in his throat like glue. He swallowed again, and he felt the painful lump move slowly to his stomach, where he knew it would sit, bubbling and protesting for the next several hours. He eyed the rest of the pastries dubiously. He wasn't hungry in the least, and not even sugar could curb his restless state. But Watari would be upset with him if he didn't eat.

L nearly laughed, realizing that he was thinking of Watari as a small child would a father, and told himself firmly that Watari worked for _him,_ not the other way around, and so if he wished, he wouldn't eat another bite. L smiled again, realizing with a jolt of uneasiness that it was the third or fourth one of the day as opposed to the usual number—zero. Maybe he was beginning to go stir crazy…he should really be going.

"Watari!" he called, getting to his feet and leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched. "Prepare the limo; I wish to leave at once."

There was a muted murmur, conveying a general dislike of L's refusal to consume the remainder of his breakfast, but L ignored it in favor of shuffling his way out of the hotel room, not waiting for Watari to prepare the limo as he'd ordered.

†††

The instant Watari parked the limo, L was out of it and moving for the Yellow Box warehouse at an alarming rate. His usual slump was assuaged, his pace was anything but leisurely, and his rarely-worn shoes were placed firmly and deliberately on the cracked concrete. His whole form radiated determination—a determination that was only increased by the light press of a thin black notebook against his abdomen, concealed neatly beneath his shirt. He'd managed to sneak it out of the hotel room without Watari noticing, much to his relief—he knew that even if the inventor asked, he wouldn't have to say anything, but he would still rather avoid any sort of confrontation involving Kou's intricate prank. It was better not to trouble anyone else with something that was almost certainly a mere joke.

A joke. A _joke,_ L reminded himself again.

"Ryuzaki?" came Watari's voice from a few feet back, and L took a moment to appreciate that his oldest companion was intelligent enough to revert to calling him by his less known pseudonym while in public. "Are you okay?"

More inquiries about his health, more concern…L snarled silently. Couldn't he just leave him alone? Couldn't he tell that he wished to focus on the task at hand, not the petty investigative attempts of his former mentor. Clearly not.

"Ryuzaki—" Watari tried again.

"I assure you, for the nth time today, I am perfectly fine. I simply wish to focus on the case, Watari. Please allow me to do this."

To L's relief, there was no response. Instead, Watari lagged behind, seeming to understand just how foul L's mood was. It was nothing new, of course—the man had been forced to deal with L's mood swings for quite some time now. At first, just like everything else, he'd tried to fix it. And then, just like everything else he'd tried to change about L, he'd given up after a few weeks. Well, _almost_ like everything else. There werea few things that Watari never gave up on, such as L's unhealthy eating habits, his aversion to sleep, and his vampiric tendency to avoid sunlight at all costs. But luckily, it appeared that he wasn't going to nag him about this particular detail. Good—L needed all his focus to be on Kou, not his worrywart of a companion.

The door to the warehouse creaked loudly as he yanked it open, making L jump at the unexpected noise. Hmm…he was used to interrogating prisoners, but he'd never performed such a thing in a public location (of course, he thought, he wasn't exactly in a _public_ location, not really—people couldn't just walk into the warehouse and find him holding a knife on a suspect—but still, being anywhere where it was even _remotely_ possible for other people to go made him very, very nervous. It was one of the problems pertaining to his boredom, he supposed. He was fascinated by interaction, almost to a fault, but couldn't stand to partake in any of said interaction himself. It was, just like everything elsein his life, a catch-22).

Shaking himself lightly and setting himself into the correct mindset for interrogating prisoners, L wrenched the door open the rest of the way and entered the abandoned warehouse. It was just as dismal as he'd expected—and of _course_ it was, because he'd carefully inspected every corner of the warehouse the previous night when he aided Watari in moving Kou into one of the various side rooms, and therefore knew just how dark and depressing the place was. It was perfect. Well, perfect for his purposes, which were just as dismal as the warehouse itself.

L placed his feet carefully, slinking around the various stacks of wooden slats, long since decayed and damaged by the cracked and dripping pipes running across the ceiling. Loose papers containing the faded remnants of order details and shipping information were plastered to the floor like paper mache. The walls appeared sticky and damp with residue from the steam and smoke of heavy machinery. Overall, the entire place was just quite dirty, and terribly unpleasant. _Good,_ L thought, nudging a clump of sticky paper with the toe of his shoe as he passed. _Kou deserves nothing but the worst._ He winced as his shoe stuck to the ground briefly—he didn't want to think about what bit of rubbish he'd gotten caught on. A moment later he was moving, shoe clinging to the ground faintly with every step, towards one of the inner doors of the warehouse. He'd placed Kou in a room on the second floor of the warehouse, in a very small place modified with stainless steel just for this very purpose. It had been quite an ordeal to haul Kou's limp form up the steep stairs leading to the upstairs area (there was an elevator, but L didn't trust the rusty, rickety thing to hold a paperclip _,_ yet alone three people, one of whom being himself _._ It wouldn't exactly be beneficial to his reputation if the headline "World's Greatest Detective Bested by Elevator" appeared in newspapers across the globe). L passed the elevator in question with a slight shake of his head, wondering at the fact that the thing had _ever_ been functional. Instead of trusting his safety to a rusted hunk of metal, L made his way over to the rather steep set of stairs, ascending up to the second floor in twenty-three stairs exactly. L knew—he'd been so bored on the journey up that he'd counted each one. Twice. L, more than willing to trust his weight to the stairs, ascended the steps two at a time, wincing as the corner of the notebook pressed painfully into his side. It didn't matter, though—soon he would have answers, and those answers would be well worth the brief moment of pain.

Watari's voice echoed through the lower floor, asking him to slow down, to wait and plan out what he would say, but it was too late. L was already out of sight. Not out of earshot, of course—if he wanted, L could easily train his ear to what his old mentor was saying—but he wasn't exactly interested, and found much more reward to be found in the interrogation of Kou rather than the in the act of listening to his companion.

L reached the top floor, which was just as decrepit as the first, and immediately made his way to the second-to-last door on the right, where him and Watari had placed Kou the previous night. He would be awake, L knew. The sedative he'd been hit with was meant to last around eight hours, and it had been just over fourteen since then. That was more than enough time for even the slowest of metabolisms to filter the drug through the human circulatory system.

Ah…and indeed, as L approached the door behind which Kou was being held, he heard a faint noise, sounding distinctly like the faint murmurings of a human voice. Was Kou talking to himself? Why?

L unlocked the door with the code Watari had given him earlier and placed his hand on the doorknob, fully intent upon opening it, when—

He frowned. That sound…it was clearer now, and as L leaned in close, placing his ear directly against the steel of the door, he heard…laughing? Yes, that was exactly what it was… _laughing._ Kou was sitting there, bound wrist and ankle with no way of knowing whether or not he'd be released before he starved to death, and he was _laughing_ at his predicament. L found himself slightly confused. Everything he'd observed, all the reports he'd read, profiled Kou as a cool, collected individual. He was cold and calculating, and completely unaffected by even the most pressing of situations. His ability to detach himself from the situation was the only reason he'd remained out of L's line of vision for so long. It was the only reason he'd been able to remain so logical when he escaped the hotel and made a break for it—and even once he'd been injured, he'd still kept his cool and fled into the nearest alley rather than continuing to move about the streets. It was just bad luck and misinformation that had gotten him stuck at a dead end. So what, then, could make him react like this? Certainly it wasn't his confinement…he wouldn't break that easily, right? It had to be something else…perhaps he had always been this way, had always been this insane, and once he was caught he saw no reason to keep up his controlled persona any longer. Or maybe he was just overthinking things, and Kou's laughter was not _,_ in fact, a sign of insanity, and merely a symbol of a frayed, strained mind. Kou had, after all, gone through quite a traumatic night. Jumping out a hotel window, injuring his leg, running from the police, getting himself cornered in an alley, being arrested…perhaps it was understandable that his nerves were shot enough to cause his bout of soft laughter.

There was another laugh, this one louder than the last, and L decided it was time to intervene. Enough thinking—he came here for answers, and he intended to get them, both about the notebook and the gang Kou worked for. And so with that in mind, L turned the doorknob and shoved the metal slat open, wincing involuntarily as a loud shriek reverberated around the room. Again, it was something he'd had to deal with the previous night—but it was still quite unpleasant to have his ears accosted by the scream of metal against metal.

L cast his gaze into the room where Kou was held, and found that it was nearly pitch black. He frowned, blinking harshly in an attempt to get his eyes to adjust. Then he frowned; the light switch was just to his left, so there was no use in adjusting his eyes. He flicked on the lights and immediately turned his sights on the newly illuminated area.

What he saw surprised him, to say the least.

Kou, though trussed like a turkey, had managed to maneuver himself into the far corner of the room, where he was currently curled in on himself with his head bowed and his forehead resting on his knees. He was barely visible, a mere scrap of flesh and cloth against the dark steel walls. And despite the obvious opening of the door, he refused to lift his head to look at L, who had just stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. He'd always been slightly claustrophobic, and the idea of trapping himself in such a small space made him incredibly nervous. This was why he normally stayed in large, elegant hotel rooms with wide open areas and _not_ in dark, dingy rooms in warehouses that were hardly large enough to fit four or five people comfortably.

"Kou Hashimoto?" L questioned evenly, placing his feet carefully on the steel plated ground as he moved forward. His shoes, made of a material that should produce no sort of echo whatsoever, produced false-sounding clicks as he moved, as if he were wearing combat boots, or more ridiculously, high heeled shoes.

Kou didn't respond. He simply curled in on himself further, arms constricting around his legs, forehead scraping across his jeans as he shook his head back and forth.

"Hashimoto," L insisted, at least having the decency to call his victim by his last name. "Can you hear me? Are you conscious?"

That was a foolish question—he was obviously conscious. Perhaps the real question was whether or not he was _aware._ And the answer to that question, L realized, as Kou continued to shake, appeared to be that no, he was not aware of what was going on around him.

L wasn't an idiot—he was well aware of the fact that Kou could be pretending to be unaware of his surroundings, and that he could just be trying to lure L in before he shot up and attacked him. But L wasn't too worried about that particular threat. After all, Kou was unable to part his wrists from his ankles due to the ropes binding him, and even if he did manage to attack, L was more than comfortable with his ability to defend himself. He was…well, _wiry,_ to put it nicely, but he was still more than capable of taking down someone as pathetic as Kou. Especially, L reasoned, when he was injured. That leg of his was still oozing blood from a rather large gash, and the strange angle suggested that he'd twisted, fractured, or most likely broken his ankle. L supposed that it had been cruel to leave him with such an injury without treatment of some kind—but then again, Kou was about to be in a lotmore pain than that, so it wouldn't exactly be worth his time to patch the criminal up.

"Hashimoto," L said again, and this time his voice was firm and commanding, using a tone that never failed to get a response from his victims.

Hah… _victims._ Such a dark but accurate word to describe those he interrogated.

Kou was silent, and for a long moment L thought that he wouldn't respond. But then a soft noise began to emanate from the inert form of the criminal, like nothing L had ever heard before. Frowning, the detective cocked his head to one side, taking a step closer. Then another. And another. He leaned towards Kou, frown deepening as the sound became clearer, and L realized that Kou was _murmuring._ Kou was talking to himself, in a tone so low that it could barely be deciphered. Taking another step forward, L leaned over the other man.

"…can't stay here, it'll get me, it'll kill me, it'll find me, can't stay here, it'll get me, it'll kill me, it'll find me, can't stay here…"

It was repeated on an endless loop in a soft, terrified tone. The words were spoken so swiftly and with such a slur that L could barely understand what was being said. But after a few passes, he managed to pick out enough individual words to understand what was being said. "It'll get you?" L questioned softly, not expecting a response. "It'll find you? And…it'll kill you?" He drew back slightly, disturbed by Kou's murmurings. He was beginning to believe that Kou really _was_ insane, and that something had broken his mind beyond repair. "Hashimoto," L said slowly, "I need you to listen to me. I need you to tell me—what is _it?_ What is coming to get you?"

Kou's murmurings grew slightly louder, and he shook his head harshly. Kou could hear him, then…he just wouldn't respond? L's brows drew together in confusion and frustration at being unable to accurately assess Kou's mental state.

"Hashimoto," he tried again. "Kou Hashimoto, tell me what is coming after you. Is it the police? Is the NPA coming to get you for your crimes?" That seemed the most likely option…but then again, this level of terror could hardly be associated with just the police. Kou had run from them on foot for upwards of two hours, and hadn't panicked in the slightest. Something had driven him over the edge, something he couldn't—or _wouldn't—_ talk about.

L felt slightly disappointed. So long as Kou was in this state, he couldn't physically harm him in order to extract information. The criminal wouldn't be aware enough to give him proper answers, especially not with an added dose of pain.

L tried again. "Hashimoto—"

But this time, his question was cut off by a loud, gut-wrenching scream. L nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected sound, immediately reeling backwards, barely managing to keep his balance. Kou screamed again, fingers twisting in the fabric of his pants, hands yanking futilely upwards, as if he longed to lodge those fingers in his hair and pull as hard as he could. His head shook back and forth even harder than before. He screamed again, and it was a sharp, raspy sound that pierced L's ears and invaded his mind.

"Hashim—"

" _Stop it!"_ the criminal screamed, and L fell silent in hopes that Kou would tell him more. "You…" he went on, voice shaking terribly. "You have no idea…no idea what it was…no idea what that _monster_ looked like…"

_Monster?_ For just a moment, L entertained the idea that Kou was being literal—but then he shook his head, bringing himself back to rational thought, and said, "Tell me, what did this monster look like?"

Kou shook his head even more violently than before. "No, no, no, no…" he repeated, over and over, again and again. "It'll find me, it'll kill me…"

This was not going the way L wanted it to. He'd wanted to barge in and scare Kou senseless, then torture—ah, _interrogate_ him and force some answers out of him regarding his gang and the Death Note, which was still pressing into the detective's side, even as he took a small step back to distance himself from his victim. "So," L said aloud, "the _it_ you refer to is a monster? What kind of monster is it, Kou?" Hmph…it seemed that he wouldn't be able to properly interrogate Kou until he snapped out of this disorientated state. He'd have to find a way to bring him back to reality—and along the way, perhaps he could acquire a few answers.

"Monster!" Kou screeched, forehead pressing harshly into his knees. He still hadn't raised his head. "Monster, demon, creature of hell…"

"Its _appearance,_ " L urged again.

" _Black!"_ Kou wailed. "Black, darkness, shadow, ink…all dark…hair, eyes, clothing, _wings…_

"Wings?" L echoed, eyes widening. Was Kou being serious? No, no—it was the insanity, it had to be! "Hashimoto, please—tell me about this monster."

The criminal's whole body tensed. "It'll get me," he said again. "It'll fly down and kill me, I know it will…why won't it go away? Why won't it _get away from me?_ It's just hovering there…watching me…why is it just watching me? Why did it hit me with that thing? That…that notebook…"

_Notebook!_ L's ears pricked up, and his gaze snapped to his victim. "Kou," he said urgently, realizing too late that he'd forgotten to call the man by his last name, "the notebook…what is it? Why did you write in it?"

"…Notebook?" Kou whispered in a moment of clarity. "What notebook?"

Eyes narrowing, L wrenched the notebook from beneath his shirt and held it up, waving it so harshly that the one of the ink-blackened pages fell halfway out. "This notebook! Don't pretend you don't know what it is!"

Kou didn't even bother raising his head to look at the notebook being so rudely waved in his face.

Perhaps this required a different approach. But what would work effectively against someone who seemed so shaken? "Hashimoto," L began slowly, deciding to go for the kind, gentle routine, "I realize that you're shaken by this monster you saw, and you claim not to remember your notebook, but…"

"The _monster!_ " screeched Kou. "The monster, the demon, it _threw_ that thing at me! It threw it, it hit me, and then…" He tugged harder at his cuffs, and this time he managed to snatch at the ends of his shaggy black hair, wrenching harshly. "It…" he trailed off, and when he next found the will to speak, his voice was slightly firmer and less shaky. "It threw that thing at me. The…the _book_. And when it hit me, I looked up, and…"

"You saw the monster," L finished, mind whirring to figure out just what Kou meant. A monster with black hair, dark eyes, and wings…a monster who'd thrown the notebook at him. Hah…a likely story. There was no way Kou had seen an actual monster, demon, or whatever else. But he didn't seem to be pretending either. So then…what was it? "Hashimoto, please listen—"

Another scream. Then another, and another, until L could barely hear himself think. Good god, this was out of hand…

And then Kou's head snapped up, and L gasped aloud. He…he'd made a grave miscalculation in the way he'd bound the criminal. He should have cuffed his hands above his head, he should have shackled him to the floor with no chance of moving a muscle, he should have done _anything_ else to keep Kou's hands _away from his eyes_. But he hadn't, and now, slashed down the criminal's face, there was a series of ten lines, five on each side, running from the tops of his eyelids all the way down to his chin. These were no shallow scratches, no faint outlines drawn by uncommitted nails—they were deep and jagged, gouged into the flesh with terrifying strength, spilling scarlet down Kou's face and coating it like a mask. And his eyes…his _eyes._ They were closed, and with good reason. The lines of crimson were drawn straight over the lids, and there was a thick, gooey substance collecting at the corners. The flesh around the lines was reddened painfully, as if infection had already begun to set in. It…it was _sickening._ L had seen much worse over his many, many years as a detective, but this…the knowledge that Kou had done this willingly to _himself_ …

L realized with a start that Kou was still screaming.

_This isn't working…I'll have to treat those injuries before I do anything else. I know that I wanted to hurt him, to interrogate him, but…this is too much. I can't have him dying of infection, or injuring himself so badly that he completely ruins his own mind…_ L backpedaled towards the door and opened it without taking his eyes off Kou. Watari, the attention of whom he'd shunned just minutes ago, he now called out for. "Watari! Watari, I require your assistance!"

"I heard screaming," came the calm reply.

L jumped, whirling to his left, and saw that his old mentor was standing politely to the left of the door. He'd been waiting outside…how much had he heard? "Hashimoto requires medical attention at once," he said, hiding the way his voice so longed to shake.

Watari sighed deeply, shaking his head. "You've hurt him so badly already, L? I'd hoped that you would show at least _some_ restraint in this matter…"

"Not me," L clarified, though he understood the confusion—there had been one too many criminals who ended up insane because he'd pushed them just a bit too far. "He did it to himself. You…you'll see."

If the inventor was surprised, he showed no sign of it. He simply asked, "And will the subject need to be sedated?"

L laughed without humor. "Yes, Watari, you could say that."

Frowning, Watari moved behind L in order to reach the door. He placed his hand on the doorknob then paused for just a moment, murmuring, "Did you manage to get anything out of the subject?"

"No. He appears to have sustained a good deal of mental trauma. He can't answer any of my questions, not in his current state of mind."

"I see." Watari was motionless for just a moment longer. Then his hand twisted, the door swung open, and he calmly entered the room where Kou was waiting.

_How frustrating…_ L's hand brushed the slight bump protruding from his baggy shirt, where he'd hastily shoved the Death Note upon seeing Kou's damaged eyes. _I won't be able to get the information I want out of him until his wounds are treated and he's had a bit more time to calm down. Perhaps then I can ask him about the notebook. He seems quite confused—he kept going on about the monster throwing the notebook at him._

L jumped as a sudden scream emanated from the room behind him. _Well, it sounds like this could take a while. Kou's wounds were quite severe, and he'll have to take a few hours at least to calm enough to answer my questions._ He shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been able to relieve his suspicions concerning the notebook, and a continuing prickle of uneasiness was nibbling away at the back of his mind. _I'm going to have to read this thing anyways,_ he thought miserably. _I should just get some of it out of the way now, while I can't do anything else._ L pulled the Death Note from its hiding place and traced a finger over the white lettering. His fingertips curled around the edge of the notebook, pulling the cover a few inches away from the first page. Then, for a moment, he paused.

He _really_ didn't want to open it again.

_No, no, no! Stop acting like a coward, it's just a story!_ L hissed silently, eyes narrowing at the notebook. _I shouldn't even be concerned about this. Just open the notebook and read the next few pages. Open the notebook and read the next few pages. Open the notebook and—_

L clawed open the notebook in one swift, jerky motion to the first page, and for a second time laid eyes upon the first line.

_May 29, 2003: A's parents are killed by a burglar._

The instant L got to his hotel room after the reading of those words, he sat down at his desk and attempted to do a search for reports of murder committed during a burglary on the specified day. He'd opened his laptop, pulled up a search page, and typed in the first few words before he'd realized one _blaring_ inconsistency in what he was attempting to do.

May 29, 2003, was not for four more weeks.

Therefore, it was impossible to do a search on people killed on that date. That was a bit of a problem. And the death of…of this _A_ character's parents couldn't exactly be prevented so long as L didn't know when or where the event would occur, or even if it would occur at all. The most he could do was wait for May 29th to pass, then search for a murder fitting the very specific conditions written down in the notebook. For the notebook, unfortunately, did not offer a location save for the country—the United States of America. And that didn't exactly narrow things down. As of the current year of 2003, the United States was home to about 269 million people. Even if L narrowed down the search to children and teenagers with parents living in the same house, it didn't increase his odds of stopping that one particular murder by much.

No, no, no, wait—the notebook wasn't real; he shouldn't even be thinking about _saving_ A's parents! _A_ did not exist! He—or she—was just a figment of Kou's imagination, another pawn in his twisted game. He should just forget it and move on.

L's eyes raked over what he'd already read, ignoring the thought of quitting. After that initial statement speaking of A's parents, the blackened pages went on to detail every little bit of the deaths of his (her?) parents. _Every_ detail, right down to the horrified expression on the mother's face at the time the knife plunged into her throat, was transcribed with painful attentiveness. The single scene alone took up two of the three pages L had forced himself to read the previous night. The third page was headed only with, _July 4, 2003: R proposes to O._ After describing the murder of A's parents, it seemed like a rather abrupt change of subject. L had attempted, of course, to find a connection between the two, or find a way to link them in any way, shape, or form, but he'd come up with nothing. There was really no way to connect three people that he knew nothing about—though he'd tried, of course. He had no evidence, not even a scrap, but it was ridiculous to think that the two events _weren't_ related in some way. Why would Kou write them down otherwise? And in such _detail…_ L had considered in the beginning that Kou was simply keeping a record of those he had helped his gang capture. But if that was indeed the case, then R and O's deaths should have been described. But they weren't. Instead, the next event was marked by the phrase, _September 30, 2003: O resigns from the FBI per R's request._ Not, as it should have been, something along the lines of _R and O are brutally murdered._

And that was the other thing—Kou's gang was involved with human trafficking, not assassination _._ The notebook shouldn't be relating any kind of murder whatsoever, because that just wasn't what Kou's gang did _._ They were very clean about their sickening little operation; they would never murder someone in that dark, bloody way that had befallen A's parents in the notebook's story. And what was more, the notebook very clearly stated that it was a _burglar_ who killed A's parents. So then, was the phrasing just a way of raising suspicion from Kou's gang? If that were the case, then Kou would have to have known that someone would read the notebook, unless he was just taking a safety precaution and his phrasing was just a sort of security mechanism. If that were true, then he was the only one that knew the true meaning behind the notebook.

L groaned, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. His head was beginning to hurt…it had been quite some time since he'd puzzled over something with this many possible outcomes. His fingers grasped one of the ink-blackened pages delicately, remembering the fragility of the notebook, and turned it over to reveal the fourth page. He hadn't read it yet; he'd only gotten to page three before he'd had to stop. His eyes immediately caught on the first phrase on the fourth page.

_November 23, 2003: K picks up the Death Note while attending a class at Hyakuya High School._

There was this mention of Kagain. It was eerie seeing someone else who referred to themselves through use of a single letter, and for some deep, unknown reason, the use of the letter _K_ struck a chord with L far more than the use of the other letters. He'd seen the letter once before, of course. At the very beginning of the notebook, on the inside cover, there resided a list of letters. They were arranged neatly in a row, starting with L and going down through K, S, M, N, R, O, until the final letter, A, found its place at the bottom of the page. This was what had first caught L's attention. Seeing his name, even if it was only his pseudonym, and somehow _knowing_ that it wasn't a coincidence, had drawn him to the notebook like a moth to a flame. And that list…it seemed almost like a casting list, as if Kou had written down each character in his twisted little story. But there were no names. No names at all, which actually corresponded with Kou's silly rules—namely the one that stated that if a human's name was written in the notebook, that human would die of a heart attack in forty seconds. If there were names written, and L could prove that those humans were still alive, then it would have ruined Kou's game quite easily. But no—each character was represented by a letter. Therefore, there was no way of tracking any one person from the notebook's tale. If L could just identify one person, if he could find out who one of those letters represented, then he could solve the puzzle backwards, like putting his pencil at the end of a maze and working backwards. One letter would link to another, and another, until the whole web was untangled.

_No, no—here I am again, thinking like the thing is real!_ _When Kou regains his head, he'll tell me that it's all fake, and it'll be over. I can finish reading and throw it away._

That didn't stop him from reading further.

_November 28, 2003: K writes the first name in the Death Note, killing a local criminal and saving the lives of several hostages._

More details. More tiny, insignificant details, explaining what K was wearing at the time of the criminal's death, where he was standing, what he was thinking, what his reasoning was behind his actions. The details took up another two pages. It was ridiculous. Just how meticulous had Kou been about this story? It wasn't even _interesting_ —the words spent describing the glisten of the criminal's teeth, the way his coat flapped in the wind, the way his eyes glimmered behind the dull lenses of his sunglasses, were all obsolete. And finally, the next statement.

_November 28, 2003: K claims his second victim. Said victim dies in a motorcycle accident outside a local convenience store._

More details. What was really concerning was the mention of the functionality of the Death Note. Kou's writing…it suggested that the notebook actually _worked._ L's fingers ghosted over the pages, barely brushing the blackened pages as he considered the possibility. The possibility that with the brush of a pen to paper, he could _kill._ It would be interesting, wouldn't it? A cure for his boredom…

But no—murder wasn't entertainment. It was a tragedy in all its various forms, and it was not to be played with. That was why L had become a detective in the first place—to _stop_ murderers, not become one. He would never stoop so low.

But if the notebook was _real_ …

He could help people.

_I help people_ now!L reminded himself furiously. _I don't need a magic notebook to make myself feel good about my contribution to the world. I've put more criminals in jail than the rest of the world's detectives combined; I don't need to kill them too. Jail is punishment enough. Besides, even if I thought that someone deserved to die, it's not my place to judge them. That falls to the justice system._

The weak, corrupted, justice system…

L's grip on the notebook tightened. He didn't need it. He just needed to read the story, and then he could wash his hands of the thing. He'd burn it, perhaps. Or shred it.

"No, no, no!" Kou's voice suddenly screeched from the closed door. "The monster, the monster, it'll get me!"

L winced as Kou's screaming increased in volume, then suddenly dropped. Watari had probably knocked him out. It was about time. And the monster…another piece of Kou's puzzle. More nonsense…?

Yes…more nonsense.

And then L's eyes found the next event in Kou's story, and his eyes went wide.

_December 3, 2015: K meets a god of death._

A monster…a _shinigami._ Was it possible that Kou…had _met…?_

No, no, that was impossible—for in order for Kou to have met a shinigami, shinigami would have to be _real_. Again, just like the notebook and the story itself, shinigami _weren't_ real. They were fake. Made up to scare children.

Unless they weren't _._

It would make sense—when faced with a literal _god,_ who _wouldn't_ react in the way Kou had? Who wouldn't have cracked? And Kou had been so rational, so collected…it seemed absurd to think that he'd lost his sanity because the police were chasing him. He wasn't the kind to be rattled by something so mundane; he'd been up against far worse and escaped unscathed. But the fact was, he _had_ been rattled—enough to drive him close to insanity. He'd seen something. Something horrible. And his description of a monster…could it be…? And if that were true, then L also had to think about the fact that Kou had very implicitly stated that the monster had thrown the notebook at him. The monster had _given_ him the notebook…and if that was true, then had the shinigami written in the notebook? And if that was the case…

No, that was ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous. L hated himself for even considering it. But he _was_ considering it. _I'll know once Kou is mentally stable,_ L told himself again. _I'll get him to tell me whether or not the notebook is real._

And L noted, then, that somewhere in the past few minutes, he'd gone from making Kou tell him that the notebook wasn't real to _asking_ him if the notebook was real. As if a tiny thread of doubt, no matter how small, had torn itself loose from the fabric of L's mind. How disturbing.

L uneasily shoved the notebook back beneath his shirt as he heard Watari approaching the door. The next moment his old mentor was saying something about Kou's temporary blindness and a strong dose of sedative administered to keep him quiet for a good few hours. Then there was something about his mental state being less than optimal, and something else about waiting a few days, but L wasn't paying attention. Even as he nodded, agreed with what Watari was saying, and slowly began to help him set up their series of monitors in the next room over, he wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were busy, focused on the slim black notebook with the ink-blackened pages. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Real or fake, genius or insanity, logic or madness…he just _didn't know._

His curiosity…it burned.

And as he stood, fingers running over the slight protruding bump in his shirt, he realized that he didn't know if he could resist it for long.


	3. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support so far, I'm glad people are enjoying this! I know that the introduction is a bit long, but the good news is that it's going to come to an end next chapter, and the real story will begin.

_This settles it—if I can't get answers soon, I_ will _go insane._

The thought ran through L's head for the nth time that day, clouding his mind over. He groaned in a low tone, closing his eyes to banish the sight of ink-blackened pages from his view. He'd been sitting, eyes locked on the notebook for upwards of five hours, and he hadn't made any progress at all. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true—he'd succeeded in reading his way through countless pages, each one chronicling events that grew more and more bizarre by the word.

But he'd think more about that later—for now, he was trying to focus his energies on Kou Hashimoto. Unfortunately, that wasn't an easy task. The one week mark of Kou's imprisonment was swiftly approaching, and L hadn't been able to get _anything_ out of him. His condition hadn't deteriorated, not in the least, but he was far from ready to talk about what he'd seen. For he _had,_ L knew, seen _something._ Whether that was a shinigami, some sort of monster, or just a shadow moving the wrong way, L knew not. But whatever it was, whatever Kou had seen…it had changed him. He'd stopped screaming after Watari treated the wounds crisscrossing his face, but other than that one small improvement, he hadn't made much progress. The several times a day L went in to speak with him, he was greeted with a blank, emotionless look (well, perhaps _look_ wasn't entirely accurate—his eyes were covered by bandages, so L couldn't really tell what kind of emotion was floating through the criminal's eyes. But he _could_ see the rest of his face, and read his body language. And that face, that body language, told him that Kou was very much emotionless, as if he'd mentally removed himself from the situation). However, as L began asking questions, that blank look soon transformed to one of pure and utter terror. His forehead crinkled, his lips parted slightly in soft, desperate pants, his entire body tensed as if he were preparing for his _monster_ to come back and rip him apart.

_What is the notebook?_ L would ask, time and time again. _How did you get it? Were you the one to write in it? What does the story mean? Why is it written in the future? Is this monster of yours a shinigami? Is…is the notebook real?_ It was funny, L realized later, that none of his questions involved the clarification of his original purpose—the identification of the members of Kou's gang. All he did was ask about the notebook.

Kou's answers would vary day to day, but his words were always clipped and fearful, increasing to a breathless wail in a matter of minutes as he became more and more distressed. Most of the time he would end up screaming, "Monster! The monster will get me! It'll kill me!" There were other things he said too, but they were all similar in nature, and all equally unintelligible. Equally useless _._ The only moment of clarity in the past six days had come two days ago when L walked in at midnight to check up on Kou, who had appeared to be sleeping at the time. L had shuffled his way down to Kou's cell and wrenched open the door, stepping inside to awaken the criminal and interrogate him. But the instant the door clawed noisily at its hinges, something changed.

Kou sat up slowly from his spot on the floor and uncurled for the first time since he'd been taken into custody. He stretched his legs out in front of him, rested his arms limply at his sides, and raised his head boldly—and for a moment, L could have sworn that despite the bandages covering his eyes, Kou was staring right through him.

"Hashimoto?" L had questioned then, a frown on his face. "Are you awake?"

The man cocked his head to one side, a confused frown splashed across his face. "Hello?" he asked, and his voice was the clearest it'd been in days. "Is that the police? Did you…did you capture me?"

And L, having waited several days to speak to Kou coherently, jumped at the opportunity to get some answers. "Yes," he said, careful to avoid anything that might send him back into madness. "You have been taken into custody by the police. But if you answer my questions, I can get you out of here and back into the real world." Lies…all lies. L had never been above lying to the _scum_ of the earth.

Kou's frown deepened.

L took it as a cue to continue. He'd take it slowly, then. "Hashimoto," he began, "before we start, I must inform you that you are safe. Nothing will hurt you here." Sugarcoated deception, of course—L fully intended to hurt Kou if he resisted. But if he could persuade him with words... "There is no one who can reach you except me, so I don't want you to fear speaking with me. Do you understand?"

Silence.

"Very well. On the night you were captured, you fled into an alleyway, I believe. Can you tell me what happened in that alley?"

Silence.

"You said that you were given a notebook…is that true?"

Silence.

"Do you know anything about the notebook? Did you write in it?"

Silence.

"Can you tell me _anything_ about the notebook? About the monster?"

More silence. For a few long moments, L was almost certain that Kou wasn't going to respond. But then, slowly, painfully, he rasped out three words—words so faint that L could barely hear them.

"I saw it."

Startled, L raised his voice in alarm. "You…?"

"I _saw_ it." Kou raised a hand in front of his face, stretching his appendage up to the bare light bulb hanging down into the center of the room and spreading his fingers wide. His head turned towards the light as if he could see the silhouette of his fingers, but of course, he could not. "The monster…" He trailed off. Then he dropped his hand, slowly, resting it limply against the cool stone floor. "It threw something at me. It hit me, and when I looked up to see what had hit me…it was there. Hovering, just above my head…dark wings, darker hair, even darker eyes. Tattered skin. Torn clothing. Protruding bones. It wasn't _human._ "

L swallowed hard, and his throat felt like sandpaper. "Hashimoto, would you describe this being as a shinigami?"

He leaned his head back against the wall. "A shinigami?" he echoed. "I don't know what that is."

Of course…despite his Japanese name, Kou hadn't grown up in Japan. He'd gone with his parents to Canada when he was very young, and had lived most of his life there before returning to Japan a few months ago. He wouldn't know what a shinigami was.

"I don't know what a shinigami is," Kou repeated in a soft, dreamy tone. "But I can tell you this, stranger—that _thing,_ whatever it was…it looked like a demon."

"Or a god?" L questioned immediately. "A god of death?"

And Kou grinned, turning his head once again to look at L though sightless eyes. He laughed. "Yeah…" he said. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"And the notebook—"

But Kou's moment of coherency was gone. His expression crumpled, his knees drew to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, his head burrowed back into the space between his knees and chest. "Monster…" he mumbled. "Demon…creature of hell…god of death…"

And then it was over. L turned and left, bearing only a small scrap of viable information—that Kou, even in coherency, believed that he had seen a monster. A monster, he might add, that could be described as a god of death.

…A shinigami?

Or…something else?

L didn't know. And that just put him right back at square one—reading the notebook and wondering what it meant.

He'd read his way through a plethora of pages, and had found things far more bizarre than the existence of a shinigami. That is, assuming that they actually did exist. The strangeness started with a single phrase— _December 4, 2003: the ICPO holds a meeting regarding the deaths of hundreds of criminals worldwide. At this meeting, L announces his investigation of the K Case._ There were a number of things wrong with that statement, namely that L was requesting, as the pages went on to detail, the _help_ of other agents—namely the agents working with the Japanese police. The notebook described that in an effort to catch K, who had by that point begun murdering criminals left and right with the Death Note, L opened connections with the ICPO and asked for the help of the Japanese police. _That_ was the strange part. Why had the L described in the story needed their help in the first place? It just wasn't his style. He'd normally but his way in, trample over the authorities of any given country, and take what he wanted. But for some reason, he'd asked for help.

No, no, no! He was thinking, once again, like the notebook was real! He was acting as if what was written in the notebook was actually going to happen—which it _wasn't!_

Grumbling to himself, L raked his eyes down the blackened pages of the notebook splayed before him. The next event described, on December 5, 2003, detailed how L had revealed the existence of K through a TV broadcast, and through the sacrifice of a criminal, at the same time revealed that K was located in the Kanto region of Japan. Hmm…killing one criminal to prove the existence of another…how like him. After that, things became very mundane for a while—so much so that L didn't even feel like rereading the information. There was something about K helping someone with homework, then about how L had begun working with the Japanese police, and how twenty-three criminals held in prison were killed one by one, on the hour, by K. That brought him to December 11, 2003. After that _,_ the L in the story realized that through use of the notebook, the time of death could be controlled, and that K must have a way of accessing the Japanese police's information. At the same time, K hid his Death Note in a false drawer in his desk. Next, twelve FBI agents were killed. Then, someone called R began shadowing K, and was eventually killed. Tests were performed on criminals using the Death Note. A criminal held a bus hostage, and the situation allowed K to learn R's name. The twelve FBI agents were all killed. Someone known as O was murdered by K a few days later. And finally, on December 31, 2003, due to an increasing distrust of L, most of the investigation team left work permanently. Only five men stayed, and it was those five men that went to meet L, face to face, a few hours later.

That was it—as far as L had read. It raised more questions than it answered. It raised so many questions, in fact, that L couldn't even compile them all into one place. He'd tried, of course, but right when the questions piled up into the forties and fifties, he lost track of them all. He didn't have the patience to sit there and run through an endless list of uncertainties—and so instead, he focused his energy, when possible, on getting answers out of Kou.

Which, again, wasn't very successful.

And so most of the time L just ended up sitting at his desk, surveillance footage playing continuously on the laptop splayed before him, notebook resting delicately on the dirtied surface of his desk, knees drawn up to his chest, coffee cooling in the space beside him. The boredom was ten times worse, L found, when he knew that there was something he _could_ be doing—interrogating Kou, for one—even if that something wouldn't get him anywhere. Anything seemed better than just sitting and reading, especially when reading just gained him more questions. There had to be _something_ he could do, _anything_ to further the investigation…

Well…that was easy, actually. If he really wanted to further the investigation, then there was one rather obvious thing he could do.

He could test the notebook.

If he did that, then he would know once and for all if the thing was real. If it wasn't, then it would be easy to pass off the notebook and its story as just another prank pulled by a mentally unstable criminal. If it _was_ real…well, that was ridiculous, and therefore foolish to waste mental energy thinking about. But theoretically…if it worked…then what would L do with it? Use it to kill criminals, like K? Destroy it? Lock it away? Perform tests on it to discover just what he could do? He had to admit, they were all intriguing options. But in order to take any of said options, he would first have to prove the notebook's functionality. And in order to do that, he would have to kill someone. Or at least, be prepared to accept the possibility, however small, that he _might_ kill someone. It wasn't as if he hadn't accepted that possibility before. He'd put countless lives in his hands, time and time again, and sometimes those lives were lost. It was just one of those harsh realities that no one seemed to acknowledge—that sometimes, life slipped through one's fingers like sand, and there was nothing that could be done to regain it. So, was this really any different? L could pick a criminal scheduled for execution the next day, so their life wouldn't be cut too short if the notebook happened to work. Then he could write that criminal's name, while keeping their face in mind, and contact the prison precisely forty seconds later to request the criminal's condition. If he was dead, the notebook worked. If he wasn't, then it didn't.

L idly flipped the pages of the notebook, one after another, until he reached a blank page about halfway through. His fingertips brushed across the cream-colored paper, and he wondered what it would be like to write a name on those pages. What would it feel like, he questioned, to press pen to paper in _just_ the right way, with the knowledge that someone would die as a result? Would it feel _good?_ Would it feel like he was doing something positive for the world? Or would it feel like the opposite—a cold, dead feeling of remorse? He was so _curious,_ and so bored. He very much didn't want his boredom to be the only reason that someone died, but…

No, he reminded himself—it wouldn't just be because of his boredom. If he wrote a name, it would be to gain valuable information to further the case. Maybe he wouldn't be furthering the case involving Kou's gang, but he would be furthering a different case, one he hadn't yet named. _The K Case?_ L laughed at the reference to the notebook's story. Yes…the K Case indeed.

"L?" a gentle voice sounded from the doorway. "It's time for you to sleep."

L huffed, irritated. He'd managed to avoid sleeping for almost forty-eight hours, and he didn't intend to break that streak now. _Well,_ he admitted silently, _it isn't much of a streak…normally I don't label it as such until I've been awake for at least four days without rest._

"L, are you paying attention to me?"

"Yes, Watari," L sighed. "I am indeed paying attention, enough so that I can repeat to you your request for me to rest."

There was a brief moment of silence, in which L assumed Watari was shaking his head. He couldn't see his old mentor, seeing as his back was turned towards the doorway, but he knew his companion well enough to guess his habitual responses to L's stubbornness. Then, "L, Kou isn't going anywhere, and he isn't getting any better. You should rest, so that when he finally regains his head, you'll be prepared to speak with him."

Hmph…L had heard this before. It was Watari's not-so-subtle attempt at manipulating him. After all these years, it didn't work any better than the first time Watari had pulled it on him. "No," L said decisively. "I have stayed awake this long, and I do not intend to rest now. There is a seventeen percent chance that Kou will regain his senses in the next twenty-four hours, and I want to be awake when it happens."

"Seventeen percent is not a large number, L, as I'm sure you know. And besides that, I'm sure that resting for one or two hours will not do much to decrease your chances of speaking with Kou."

Watari was moving into the room. L subtly closed the notebook and slipped it under the base of his laptop. He knew that Watari wasn't an idiot—he would no doubt have seen L concealing something—but he also knew that his old mentor wouldn't comment on it. So long as he didn't flout the notebook around, Watari wouldn't bother to ask about its purpose. He was pleasantly unobtrusive in that way. "I will not rest," he said at last, realizing that he was taking too long to respond, and Watari was beginning to look slightly worried. "There are things that must be done, and I must be the one to do them."

"Is this about that notebook I've seen you reading?"

Well. So much for unobtrusive.

"No," L responded flatly. "The notebook has nothing to do with this. It is merely something Kou had on him when he was taken into custody. Its contents are of no particular concern."

"I see. Then you should have no problem in explaining just what you feel is more important that allowing yourself to rest for a few hours."

"Of course." L had already orchestrated his response in case of this scenario. "You see, Watari, while the contents of the notebook are of no concern to either or us, I still feel that it is necessary to read through it just in case some valuable shred of information can be derived. That is why I feel it important to read through it, and why it is far more important a task than sleeping."

Watari said something, something painfully dull and monotonous, but L had stopped paying any attention. His eyes were locked on the screen of his laptop—more specifically, on the footage of Kou's cell. The criminal had sat up for the second time in six days, raising his head to display the white bandages stretched across his ruined eyes. He had that same air about him as the first time he'd experienced a moment of clarity…he had that same look. He stared straight into the camera, despite the fact that there was surely no way he knew where said camera was, and gazed with sightless eyes straight through it. His entire form relaxed, and although he still remained with his knees drawn up to his chest, he was no longer holding them in a death grip. He looked almost normal. If the bandages were removed, his eyes healed, and his scuffed clothing replaced, he might have even appeared to be just another member of society. Passing him on the street, L didn't think he'd spare him a second glance.

"Watari…" he murmured, still staring at Kou.

The inventor paused, and L realized that he'd interrupted him. Not only that, but he had no idea what he'd been saying. "L?" he questioned. "What is it?"

Kou hadn't moved a muscle. He was still staring, with a relaxed sort of blankness, at the camera. Waiting…waiting for something. For L? "Watari…" L repeated, eyes glued to the monitor. He raised a finger, slowly, and brought it to hover mere inches from Kou's unmoving form. "…Look."

The inventor's eyes rose to the monitor. Then an expression of exhaustion and exasperation crossed his face, as if he was realizing that Kou's change of position and even the _slightest_ sign that he was regaining his sanity would prove for several more days of sleeplessness for L. "L…" he began, as if preparing to tell his ward that he should ignore Kou's strange behavior.

"Do you see that?" L breathed. "He's staring right at the camera…"

"A coincidence," Watari declared. "Please, L, ignore it."

"Watari, you can't honestly expect me to sit here and stare at a monitor while Kou shows signs of wakefulness," L said flatly.

"L—"

"No, Watari. I have waited six days to get a response out of this man. If there is even the slightest chance that he has awoken from his trance, then I must be there to interrogate him."

"You can't—"

L swept up the notebook, not bothering to hide it, and headed for the door.

†††

Kou was sitting just where he'd last seen him. And when L entered the room, just like the first time, the criminal's head snapped up to face him, eyes trained on his face from behind the bandage.

But this time, it was Kou who spoke first.

"The monster hasn't come back."

This again? "No," L agreed. "I told you, the monster cannot find you here."

Kou shuffled, and L got the sense that he was even more coherent than the first time. "Or maybe it has," he drawled. "I can't see, you know, so it may very well have shown up and just kept quiet. But…you would see it too, wouldn't you? You have monitors…"

"I do," L affirmed. "And I can assure you, I haven't seen any monsters."

He hummed. "I see." He pushed himself, slowly, so his back rested straighter against the wall. "Tell me…is the monster real?"

L blanched, not having expected such a question. "Is…the monster…?"

Kou shook his head suddenly. "Don't bother answering. I know that it was real."

This was it. Kou seemed coherent, surprisingly so, as if his mind had clicked back into place. This was what L had been waiting for. This was when he would be able to get his answers. "Hashimoto," he began, just like the time before, and the time before that, and the time before that. "Tell me again about the monster, and about the notebook."

Kou's eyes widened, and for a moment L feared that he was about to lapse back into insanity. But then he seemed to calm himself, his entire form visibly deflating, and he sighed. "I saw it," he whispered. "I was running…running from the police…and I stopped in an alleyway to catch my breath. I didn't want the police to catch me. I was tired. My leg was hurt…I leaned against the wall of the alley to catch my breath. I was there, and then all of the sudden there was this…this _thing_ hitting me in the back of the head. Black with white lettering…a notebook?"

L immediately held up the Death Note. "This notebook?" he asked.

Kou laughed. "I'm blind for the moment, remember? And besides…it was dark, I didn't see it very clearly."

"It's a black notebook with white lettering. Do you know it?"

"Like I said, I didn't see it clearly. I have no clue what it looks like."

L's eyes narrowed. _So he wants to make me believe that he doesn't remember anything about the notebook, just to make my investigation harder!_ He was beginning to feel a deep irritation over Kou's inability—or refusal—to respond to his questions. He knew that Kou was probably hurt and confused, and longing for some source of comfort after so long spent in mental instability, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty after everything the man had done. "Hashimoto, there is a story written in the notebook. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"A…a story? What's it about?"

"It is about something called the Death Note," L responded in a low murmur. "Tell me, Kou, do the names, L and K mean anything to you?"

"L is a detective," the criminal murmured in a low tone. "And…K? Is he like L?"

"Perhaps," L said elusively, hiding the fact that even he didn't know the answer to Kou's question. "But focus on the story, Kou. Have you ever heard of a Death Note? Did you write anything in or about one?"

"Death Note," Kou echoed slowly. "A Death Note…can't say I've heard of it." He leaned forward, and L felt as if those wounded eyes were staring straight through him. "Why? Is there something troubling you, detective?"

_Detective?_ L thought, alarmed. When had Kou deduced that he was a detective? Did he know more than he was letting on? And if he _did_ know more, then did he know enough to have written the twisted tale in the Death Note?

"Well?" Kou urged. "You _are_ a detective, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?" L asked evenly.

Kou's head rolled on his shoulders limply, and the next moment he was staring blindly up at the ceiling. "You're the only one that's been in to see me," He murmured. "Well, you and that other man."

"Perhaps I am a police officer assigned to your case," L suggested.

"No…no, that can't be right. The police wouldn't leave me tied up for this many days; they wouldn't allow it. It's borderline inhumane." Kou shook his head continuously, the gestures shallow and gentle compared to his earlier thrashing.

"Even if that's the case, wouldn't a detective be working with the police?" L refuted. "What makes you think that I'm a detective if I'm treating you so inhumanely, as you say?"

"Just a feeling," was the response. "You've done nothing but interrogate me, right? Only a detective would do something like that."

L could have written a book with all the things wrong with that statement. But instead, he asked, "Is that all?"

There was a long, drawn out pause before Kou saw fit to respond. "Yes."

"I see."

More silence.

"If you don't recognize the notebook," L went on, deciding to drop the subject for a moment, "then can you tell me more about the monster? Do you still think that you saw some sort of inhuman creature?

Kou's head whipped up. "The monster was real!" he snapped viciously. "I saw it!"

"Of course you did," L soothed. "The monster was the one that threw the notebook at you; you mentioned that several times."

Kou's sneered. "You don't believe me!" he accused, and some of that hysteria was leaking back into his formerly calm voice. "You think I'm crazy! Is that why you're here, you…you _detective?_ Are you just waiting until I prove myself criminally insane? Are you going to dump me in the loony bin and leave me to rot?"

With every word Kou's voice increased in volume, until his furious screeching reverberated off of the steel plated walls painfully, amplifying with every moment. After several moments, when the last wailing echoes were still purging themselves from the still air, L saw fit to speak. "I have no intent on sending you away to an asylum. I merely wish to understand what you saw in the alleyway." _Yes…the thing you saw that completely broke your mind. Especially if what you saw was a shinigami, thus validating the Death Note's capabilities._

"I don't believe you," Kou hissed, and now his voice was dangerously quiet. All hints of sanity were swiftly vanishing beneath a tide of fury. "You're going against me, aren't you? You want to have me killed!"

"Killed?" L echoed dumbly, completely stunned by Kou's swift transition from dazed to livid.

"Executed!" Kou clarified. "You're just waiting for the green light to put me on death row, right? You're trying to send me to my execution!"

L carefully controlled the irritation beginning to bubble beneath his skin. "You presume too much. I will not be the one to have you executed."

"No…" Kou agreed venomously. "You'll just hold me here until I talk, then you'll cart me off to the courts so _they_ can have me executed. It ends the same way, no matter what—so why the hell should I help _you?_ "

L barely concealed a groan. Kou had been so complacent just a few minutes ago… "You're not helping anyone by being difficult," he said slowly, carefully. "If you cooperate, then I would be more than willing to pull a few strings to help preserve your life."

"But I'll still end up in jail for the rest of my life," was the response. "And besides that, what do I have other than your word that you'll nullify the death sentence? If I tell you what you want to know, then what's to stop you from shoving me in a prison to await death while you gallivant away, washing your hands of this whole situation?"

Nothing. _Nothing_ would stop that from happening, because that was exactly what L had planned. And what was more, he had no intention of saving Kou from execution. The filthy criminal deserved death after all he'd done.

"That's what I thought," Kou spat, and L realized suddenly that in the few seconds he'd taken to think out his response, his captive had already made up his mind. "And answer me this, detective—who's to say that my gang isn't coming for me? If I just stay here, nice and safe, avoiding prison, then they might just spare the time to come and retrieve me." A wide, demented grin spread over Kou's face as he leaned back heavily, slumping over against the wall. "So long as I stay here, and so long as I don't say a word to you, I'll be perfectly fine. And when I get out, perhaps I'll direct my coconspirators in your direction." That grin was spreading further, ripping across his face in a jagged line. "Perhaps I'll tell them that you held me here, against my will, for days on end. And perhaps I'll tell them to _kill_ you, detective. Or perhaps—and this is the _best_ option, believe me—they'll sell you into their service! Wouldn't that be fun?"

L's hand twitched towards the notebook, and he felt the sudden, indescribable longing to end Kou's life then and there. _He'd deserve it…_

"I can imagine it now, can't you?" Kou purred. "I've seen if before, you know—a mighty opponent, toppled by pride and sold like a _dog_ into our little operation. Can't you see it, detective? Can't you feel the bite of chains around your wrists? Can't you hear the jeering of your _master?_ Can't you—"

" _Enough!"_ L spat, temper momentarily eluding his control. He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, wincing as a coppery taste flooded his mouth. "Hashimoto…" he growled, "I will lay this out for you in a way you can understand. You are going to tell me whatever I wish to know, _including_ the names of your gang members. In addition, I expect you to tell me anything you know about the notebook. And in return, I will make every attempt to lessen your sentence once you are tried in court. I will also make sure that you enter prison under the guise of a crime other than the one you committed."

Kou sneered, and once again L found himself marveling at his complete turnaround. "And if I refuse?"

L leaned in close, managing to look threatening despite his smaller stature. "If you refuse, then you will get none of those things, and I will find a way to forcibly extract the knowledge I seek. My coworker is quite versed in torture, I'm sure you'll find."

Kou's eyes widened, and for the first time, anger was replaced with a flicker of fear.

"And in addition to that," L continued menacingly, "once you've broken, I will send you to prison _without_ the previously offered guise. I'm sure you know what will happen to you if the other inmates know you've committed rape, Hashimoto."

"I didn't—!"

"Oh, no," L said coldly, "I forgot—you haven't committed the crime yourself, you've just sold innocent people to the _real_ criminals. Is that your reasoning? Because I can assure you, it doesn't matter whether or not you've committed the crime itself—the fact that you've sent others to such a fate is more than sufficient to assure your treatment in prison. And I will _not_ be protecting you."

There was a long, drawn out period of silence, in which Kou observed L with sharp, beady eyes. His expression was drawn and tense, but completely devoid of emotion—and for just a moment, L thought that he was about to submit, until that vile grin spread back across his face.

"Hmm…" Kou murmured. "You've presented me with a tough decision, detective." He took another short pause. Then, "Unfortunately," he said, "you've forgotten one little thing."

"And what is that?" L asked sarcastically, very much doubting that he'd overlooked anything.

"I don't trust you."

L stared. "And what does that imply?"

Kou smirked. "Oh, pardon me, let me phrase that a different way—I don't _believe_ you."

L's voice was flat. "You don't believe me."

"Nope!" Kou laughed uproariously. "Do you want to know why, detective? No, no, don't guess—I'll tell you! I don't believe you because what you're doing, what you're threatening—it's borderline inhumane! There's no way our justice system will let you get away with it! Trust me, my dear detective, when my case goes to court, your word won't mean _anything._ I'll be given protection whether you want it or not, so long as my friends don't rescue me first. "

Oh, how irritating…at times like this, it was quite inconvenient that the world didn't know his face. If Kou knew who he really was then it would be all too easy to threaten him, for he would _know_ that he had the authority to back it up. But both fortunately and unfortunately, Kou didn't know who he was.

"Do you hear that?" Kou taunted nastily. "I'm not going to tell you a thing, detective. Not about my coconspirators, not about the monster, not about the notebook."

"So you do know something about the notebook," L prompted.

"I don't know," Kou purred. "Do I?"

Frustrating. Infuriating. L ground his teeth together. "And are you determined to follow through with this foolish resistance? Because I assure you, Kou, I am more than capable of following through with my threats. You have one chance, and one chance only—and this is it."

"Sorry, detective. You're not going to fool me with _that._ "

L's expression hardened. "Very well." He turned, notebook in hand, and headed for the door.

"Detective?" Kou called after him, sounding somewhat confused, as if wondering why he was leaving.

"I have no further reason to speak to you until you cease this foolishness," L explained in a clipped tone. His hand met the doorknob, and he pushed the door open harshly.

"Detective—"

L slammed the door. Kou's words echoed through his mind as he began the trek back to the surveillance room.

_If I tell you what you want to know, then what's to stop you from shoving me in a prison to await death while you gallivant away, washing your hands of this whole situation?_

_That's right,_ L thought, the beginnings of an idea stirring within the deepest recesses of his mind. _After committing such a heinous crime and taking the lives of so many innocents, Kou will no doubt be sentenced to death, even without my input._ And then L froze as the gravity of that statement sunk in. _Kou will be sentenced to death…he'll be scheduled for execution. And didn't I say that I could test out the Death Note on a criminal on death row? If I can just get him convicted, then I can test the notebook and get the answers I need._

He had to admit, the idea was quite appealing. But no—he shouldn't test the notebook, not just yet. He had to remind himself that no matter how unlikely it was, if the notebook _was_ real, and he used it on Kou, there would be no way around it—he would be committing murder.

_But if he was already sentenced to death, then I would only be shortening his lifespan by a few days. Months, at the worst._

Still…that didn't excuse murder.

…Did it?

He needed to do something—he needed a plan. He wanted to test the notebook, and he had the perfect opportunity to do so. But if he could crack Kou without having to test the Death Note, then wouldn't that be better? He should wait a while, then test it if Kou refused to cooperate. He could have Watari interrogate him, and if that failed, he could use the notebook. He just needed to give himself a time limit. He would only wait a short while before he resorted to testing the Death Note. But how long?

Hmm…it had been one week since L had come into possession of the Death Note. That meant that there were three weeks left until the first event in the notebook—the murder of A's parents—would come to pass. Assuming, of course, that the notebook was real, L would want time to prepare an attempt to stop the murder. He'd want one week, perhaps, to attempt to track A down. Maybe two, just to be safe.

So that was it then—he'd wait one week. One week for Watari to crack Kou wide open. One week for the criminal to spill his guts before he _spilled his guts_ in a literal sense. One week. And after one week, if Kou still hadn't cracked…he would use the Death Note.

Curving his lips in an odd imitation of a smile, L shoved the Death Note beneath his shirt and continued his progress towards the surveillance room.

†††

_Oh god, I'm going to be in so much trouble for this…_

Ryuk floated along after Rem, wings coasting along nonexistent currents as he soared over the dreary wasteland that formed the shinigami realm. He'd been so close to getting that notebook for the boss…but now, that criminal owned it, and Ryuk couldn't kill an owner of a Death Note unless he himself gave his notebook to a human. If he'd just been able to throw his notebook at that police officer with the white shirt and blue jeans, then he could have simply murdered the criminal—Kou Hashimoto, he thought—and then taken out the police officer. It would have been that simple. The notebook would be his, he would get to keep Sidoh's Death Note, and the boss wouldn't smite him.

"Keep up!"

Oh…and then there was _that._ "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled, wincing as Rem, who was floating a few feet ahead of him, whirled around with a nasty sneer on her face.

"You will _not_ get anywhere by delaying the inevitable," Rem spat, and even in anger, her voice was contradictorily flat. "The boss asked you to retrieve the notebook, and you failed. Now you will deal with the consequences."

"Yeah," Ryuk snorted, "well, I _would_ have retrieved the notebook, if you'd just given me a few more minutes before dragging me back here!"

"You didn't have to listen to me," Rem pointed out coolly. "You could have stayed, be it for even a moment longer, and been killed by the boss the instant you returned here. That was an option more than available to you."

"Aww, you know what I mean!" Ryuk whined. "You couldn't have delayed for a few minutes? Long enough for me to give that police officer my notebook, kill the owner of that other shinigami's notebook, and retrieve the thing? If you'd just given me a bit longer before showing up and ruining everything, neither of us would be in this situation!"

_"I_ am not in any sort of undesirable situation," came the response. "Once I see you to the boss, I will be allowed to wash my hands of the situation. _You_ are the one who will be tried for what you have done."

Ryuk very much wanted to throttle Rem just then, regardless of the fact that without the need for oxygen, it wouldn't do a thing other than mildly annoy her.

"We are almost there," Rem reported unnecessarily, because Ryuk had beento the boss's place many times, so it was completely pointless to state such an obvious thing. "Hurry up, unless you want your judgment to be harsher than it already is."

Grumbling, Ryuk followed. Though, he noted with satisfaction, his pace didn't speed up in the slightest. He remained a stubborn few feet behind Rem, and there he stayed, until the beginnings of the craggy spires surrounding the boss's primary residence came into view. The boss didn't have a house, not in the way the humans would define the term, but he _did_ have an abode of sorts where he spent most of his time. That was where his throne was, and where he gave most of his orders from. And although the boss's domain wasn't a concrete home in the traditional sense of the word, with rooms and personal effects, and, well… _walls…_ but the massive, looming spires of rock that surrounded the general vicinity of the boss's domain were enough to deter even the most bold of the shinigami from entering. _Keep out,_ those spires growled. _Don't come here, or you'll pay with your life._ And those whispers worked _._ No one ever entered the place, not unless invited.

And unfortunately, Ryuk _had_ been invited. Again.

How very upsetting.

What was more, after Ryuk saw the boss, he most likely wouldn't be retaining his life for much longer. He'd die. Flat out. No trial, no jury, just _bam_ —he'd end up just as dead as Gelus.

Or…on the other hand…he might be given a chance at redemption. The boss might order him back to the human world in order to retrieve the rogue shinigami's notebook, _correctly_ this time. Not the way he'd done it—because now, instead of the whole notebook, he had about half its pages, blackened thickly with ink. Said pages were currently shoved into Sidoh's notebook, which was tucked against his side. The rest of the pages were still with that human. The human he'd be sent back to kill, if he got another chance.

Hmm…he wondered if that human would still be alive when he got back. Time worked strangely between the human world and the shinigami realm—it was strangely fluid. One week in the shinigami realm could be one second in the human world, or it could be one year. Or ten years. Or twenty. It all depended on luck, and there was no way to accurately predict how much time would pass when you jumped from one plane to another. There was a chance that when Ryuk went back the human would be dead, or that the rogue shinigami would have already retrieved his notebook. Or, on the other hand, it could only have been a few seconds since he'd left, and the human could still be standing in the alleyway, police officer pressing him into a wall. He had no way of knowing, really, what things would be like if he was sent back.

"We're here."

Rem's voice tore Ryuk from his soundless musings, and when he looked up, he was surprised to see that the spires guarding the boss's domain were beneath their feet, several meters below. They were descending into the clearing now, the clearing where the boss's throne sat. The boss was already in sight, as unfortunate as it was. He was sitting on his throne, looking as old and grumpy as ever—and his eyes, even _more_ unfortunately, were staring up in his direction.

_He knows…_ Ryuk grumbled silently to himself, too peeved to keep up his normal humor. _He already knows I messed up, and he's_ enjoying _watching me squirm._

Still grumbling, wings twitching irritably, Ryuk lumbered down into the clearing behind Rem and landed with great reluctance upon the rocky ground. And Rem, the irritating creature, approached the boss with confidence, "I have brought Ryuk to you, as promised. Now, will you keep your promise?"

There was a momentary pause, in which the boss lounged back on his throne, examining Rem through sunken eyes. Then he raised a hand, and for a moment Ryuk was certain that his punishment was about to be delivered without so much as an explanatory word—but then he saw a thin, battered notebook clutched between the boss's spindly fingers, and he realized that maybe, just maybe, his life would be prolonged for just a moment longer.

And then the boss spoke. "Fine," he drawled. He held out the notebook to Rem, who immediately snatched it up. "You can have Gelus's notebook back, to do with what you please. That is what we agreed upon, no?"

Rem offered only a short nod.

"Then you are excused."

That was it. Rem turned, and a heartbeat later, a gust of wind signified her departure. Ryuk, on the other hand, was left to the boss.

He swallowed hard. "So…"

The boss raised his chin—that is, raised what vaguely _resembled_ a chin on his twisted, nonhuman form. "What?" he snapped. "No jokes for me today, Ryuk? Don't tell me you're _nervous,_ are you?"

"Not…not exactly," he said carefully.

"Hmm. Fine, then." The boss leaned back, straightening his spine to rest against the back of his seat. "Give me the notebook."

"Ah…well, about that…" He gulped. "I don't exactly have it."

The boss raised a brow. "And why is that?"

Ryuk shuffled his feet like a scolded child. "Well, uh, that rogue shinigami shoved his notebook on a human, and there's this rule about a shinigami not being able to kill an owner of a Death Note until they give their own notebook to a human…"

"I _know_ the rule!" spat the boss. "What I want to know is why you didn't give your notebook to a human in order to retrieve that runaway shinigami's Death Note! I know that you've stolen Sidoh's Death Note, Ryuk. You can't hide it from me. You could easily have given that stolen notebook to a human in order to fulfill your task, even if only for a moment."

"Rem dragged me back here!" Ryuk protested. "She said you'd kill me if I didn't come back immediately!"

Another short pause. Then the boss, expression crinkled in anger, rose to fingers to where the bridge of his nose would have been if he were a human. "The fool…" he growled. "I told her to wait and observe the situation before acting. But she was so caught up in getting Gelus's notebook back that she was too impatient to follow orders correctly! She is so eager to go to the human world…"

"Human world?" Ryuk echoed before he could stop himself. "She's going to give Gelus's notebook to a human?"

The boss didn't answer. Instead, he said, "You have failed in the simplest of missions, Ryuk. I warned you that death would be your consequence upon your failure. Are you prepared to accept this?"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Ryuk threw his hands up. "I got some of the notebook, at least! It's not like I failed entirely!" He withdrew Sidoh's notebook and swiftly yanked out the clump of loose pages that had fallen from the rogue shinigami's Death Note. "I got some of the pages!"

The boss's head whipped up. "Pages? You have the pages of the notebook?"

And just like that, Ryuk saw an opportunity to amend at least a part of what he'd done. "Yes!" he announced, hoping the boss would overlook that he'd only managed to retrieve _some_ of the notebook, not _all_ of it. "I have the notebook pages!"

"Then give them to me."

Ryuk handed the pages over and waited as the boss skimmed the blackened pages, flipping one after another until he reached the end of the sizeable chunk.

The boss chucked the pages back at Ryuk without warning. "This is not all of the pages!" he hissed. "This is only the second half of a two-part tale!" He clenched his fists, yellowed teeth baring. "I need the first half! You failed to bring it to me!"

"I can get it! Just let me go back to the human world!"

The boss frowned, and for just a moment, his anger lessened, making way for a surge of curiosity and thoughtfulness. His fury all but evaporated. "I suppose I could send you back," he murmured. "But what guarantee do I have that you will succeed?"

"There's no way I won't get the rest of the notebook!" Ryuk insisted, realizing with a jolt that if he didn't manage to convince the boss that he'd succeed, his life would be forcibly ended. "Before I left, I saw the name of the human who owns that rogue shinigami's notebook! I can go to the portal and locate him, then jump down and give my notebook to a human in his area. Then I'll write his name, take his notebook, then kill the owner of Sidoh's notebook and take it back. It'll be that easy, I promise!"

The boss's eyes narrowed. "What reassurance do I have that you will keep your word?"

"Well, uh…"

"That's what I thought," the boss growled. His hand began to rise, no doubt to smite Ryuk where he stood.

"Wait, wait!" he yelped. "What reassurance do you want? I'll give you whatever you want!"

This pause was longer, more drawn out. Then, "Very well. If you're so determined to keep your life, then I will offer you this—you bring me the notebook, _correctly_ this time, and I will allow you to live."

The same deal as last time? Ryuk would take it. "Yeah, let's do that!" he exclaimed eagerly. "Just let me go back to the human world, and I'll get the notebook!"

"If you fail, then your life will be mine. You will not get a third chance."

He was relenting—the boss was giving him a second chance, against all odds! Ryuk could hardly contain his joy. "Of course not! With any luck, when I return, the portal will spit me back out only a few minutes after I left. If that's the case, I could be back here in a few minutes of human time. Of course, that's assuming that the runaway shinigami isn't waiting for me to return. He only had one notebook, and he gave it to that human, so he shouldn't be able to kill the owner of his Death Note to get it back."

The boss snorted inelegantly. "It won't be that easy. The portal will spit you out exactly four weeks from the time you first entered the human world. By that time, much will have changed."

"Great…" Ryuk grumbled, remembering sullenly that the boss was the only one who could accurately predict the displacement of time between the human world and the shinigami realm. "I'll have to deal with the other shinigami _and_ finding a human to drop my notebook on."

"The shinigami will not intervene."

"What makes you say that?"

The boss shrugged. "Oh…just a feeling."

So Ryuk was going to gamble his life on one of the boss's _feelings._ How inopportune. "That's it, then? You're letting me go?"

"For now. Don't fail me again."

And that was that. Ryuk darted out of the boss's domain without so much as a second glance, fleeing the scene before the boss could change his mind.

_Oh, wait…what's this?_

Ryuk frowned, bring his hand up to his face, and realized with a start that he was still holding the chunk of pages he'd tried to give the boss. Oh, dear…he probably should have left those with the boss. Oh well. No way he was going back now _._ He'd just have to shove the pages back into Sidoh's notebook and dump them on whatever poor human happened to pick up the Death Note. It'd be entertaining, to be sure. And so with a nasty grin on his face, Ryuk did just that—he yanked Sidoh's notebook open, placed the loose pages back inside, and closed it once more.

And then, notebook in hand, Ryuk spread his wings to their fullest extent and flew towards the portal to the human world.


	4. Algiz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, welcome back! I know this introductory bit is slow, so thanks for sticking with me. But the good news is that this chapter is the last part of the introduction. Light will be introduced very soon, and after that, the story will be in full swing. So hey, we have that to look forward to!

One week later, L was still right where he'd started. It was starting to feel repetitive, this infuriating dance. Six days had come and gone, and Kou remained the same. He'd regained his coherency against all odds, and had maintained the sentience that had been so recently lost. He'd gone from a blank, terrified husk to a fierce, defiant little imp, and it was driving L crazy. He'd never met anyone like this before. He'd never seen someone so adverse to not just Watari's methods of interrogation, but to his own as well. That _never_ happened—no matter the criminal, they always cracked within a matter of days when faced with the both of them. This disgusting little gnat had held out longer than any criminal L had ever interrogated, and it didn't appear that he'd be breaking anytime soon.

But that was okay—because if he hadn't spoken up about his gang, the Death Note, or the existence of shinigami by midnight, then L had the right to test the notebook. He'd already pulled a few strings and gotten Kou sentenced to death—not as hard a thing as one might think, especially for someone with L's status. This way, when he used the notebook and it happened to work, he'd only be cutting a few weeks, months at most, from Kou's lifespan. So that was it. Come midnight it was game over, one way or another. If the notebook failed as he believed it would, then he would turn Kou over to Watari and give the old inventor free reign of the situation. He hadn't yet used the cruelest methods in his arsenal, and if Kou refused to speak up, then he would gladly unleash those methods upon him. L knew of more than one nasty hallucinogen that would drive Kou to tell him the answers through the veil of insanity. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Hopefully, Kou would tell him the answers before he had to use such a barbarous method. Hopefully, the criminal wouldn't drive him to use the notebook, even as a test.

He doubted it, thought.

"Back again?"

Hmm…for just a moment, L's musings had led him to forget that he was in the midst of speaking to Kou. He used the term _speaking_ instead of _interrogating_ because unfortunately, there wasn't much interrogating going on. L asked a question, Kou refused to answer and asked a question in turn, and L normally ended up answering. It turned into more of a discussion than an interrogation. Kou was quite good at redirecting the conversation to serve his own purposes. A few times L had gone along with it, hoping to trick Kou into saying something detrimental, but it never worked. Despite his thuggish personality, which he largely held back while in his presence, Kou was quite intelligent. So intelligent, in fact, that L almost feared that he'd guessed who he really was. _Almost—_ for if he really suspected that Kou had unveiled his identity, he would have stopped showing his face to him immediately.

"Detective? What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

L formed his expression into one of patience. "I am merely pondering the fact that the one week I gave you to answer my questions will run out tonight. After that, I will stop playing nice, so to speak."

"Oh yeah? And what do you mean by that?"

"Well, Hashimoto, one of two things will happen. Either you will be left to the clutches of a rather unsavory concoction of hallucinogens, or you will be killed."

He laughed.

"What, don't believe me?" L taunted tonelessly. "I can assure you, as I have assured you many times before, that I am above the law. If I wish torture you through the use of narcotics, then I will do so. If I wish to kill you, then I will do so."

Kou clearly didn't believe him. He shook his head, a false expression of sadness flickering across his face. "What a shame, detective," he sighed. "You're willing to go so far just to sate your blind curiosity."

"It is not blind. It has a purpose, which you know very well."

Kou grinned, and there seemed to be far too many teeth in the expression. "You know, detective, curiosity killed the cat."

"Ah yes," L responded flatly. "Such a clever idiom. Unfortunately, you seem to have overlooked the second half of the expression."

"Which is…?"

"Curiosity did indeed kill the cat, Hashimoto," L murmured. "But satisfaction brought it back."

Kou bared his teeth in a sneer. "Not this time. I've told you before, when my friends rescue me, you're dead."

More threats. Kou had been threatening him this way for many, many days now. The threats were groundless, L knew, for the criminal's so-called friends would never attempt to rescue him. But either way, having his life threatened by such lowly scum was incredibly irritating. But no matter—he'd already decided that if Kou remained alive after this night, he'd step back and let Watari break him completely. He was tired of these roundabout questions.

"Enjoy your speech while you can," L said, unable to resist the temptation of taunting his victim further. "After tonight, you'll be robbed of your ability to speak to me."

Kou's lips parted, no doubt in an attempt to threaten his captor further, but L cut him off before he had a chance to spout more garbage. "Unless you want to be gagged, I wouldn't suggest uttering whatever foul offense is about to leave your lips. Restrain yourself, and I will not bind you further. Speak, and your punishment will be swift and immediate. I will call Watari in, and he will resume his work. Do you want that?"

In that moment, L didn't doubt that Kou's glare could—and _would_ —melt ice. But still, despite his obvious defiance, he nodded his head once, and that was that.

"Very well," L said. "I will come here once every hour, on the hour. I will make no more attempts to persuade you to speak to me during this time. Rather I will ask you only what I wish to know, and if you do not answer, I will leave. I advise you to answer before midnight."

"Sounds good," Kou muttered, though he was glaring nastily.

"By midnight, if you have not told me what I wish to know, then you will be dealt with accordingly."

For just a single moment, L thought he saw something like fear in his prisoner's eyes. But it was gone so quickly that he couldn't be sure. "Fine," he grumbled, turning his head away. "See if I care, you nasty old detective. I'm not telling you anything."

"We will see."

And just like that, L turned around and left.

†††

One hour later, L was back.

"What do you know of the Death Note?" he asked.

Kou glared. "What, no greeting?" he sneered.

"What do you know of shinigami?" L persisted.

"Come on, you can't just—"

"What are the names of your associates?"

"You can't honestly expect me to tell—"

"Very well, then," L responded shortly. "I will return in one hour. I expect you to have different answers for me." He left, ignoring Kou's furious screeching.

†††

One hour passed, and L returned.

"What do you know of the Death Note?"

"Look," Kou started, "let's just talk this out."

"Tell me your answer."

Kou huffed. "I don't know anything about it, I've told you countless times."

"You lie. Now, tell me of the shinigami."

"I don't—"

"Of course, you claim ignorance. Then tell me the names of your associates."

"I can't—"

"I will return in one hour.

†††

Another hour, another set of questions. More hours, more questions, and a distinct lack of answers. Kou refused to say anything useful, no matter how many questions were thrown his way. He appeared more stubborn than ever. And L, quite frankly, was done with it. It was eleven thirty. There were thirty minutes until midnight, and thirty minutes until the deadline he'd given himself. That meant that Kou had one more set of questions to endure—the set he was supposed to receive at midnight. L figured that he could ask the last set of questions a bit early. That would give him time to think about using the Death Note for a few minutes before he actually did it. There was a certain level of contemplation that had to be done before using something that could quite easily end another human being's life.

It was with this mindset that L found himself pushing open the door to Kou's prison no later than eleven thirty-five. The criminal's head was already turned towards the door; his eyes were already narrowed in anticipation. He'd been waiting. Perhaps he was ready to give L the answers he sought. Though, the detective mused, it wasn't likely.

"You know how this goes," L said blandly. "Answer my questions, and I'll cart you off to prison with at least a modicum of protection. Refuse me, and you'll either die or be tortured until you _wish_ you were dead. Now, for the last time, tell me—what do you know of the Death Note?"

Kou, for all his resolve, looked quite tired as he responded, "I've told you, detective, I don't know anything. It's useless to keep asking me these things."

"Very well. Then—"

"Hang on!" Kou bristled. "I wasn't done, you dolt! Like I said, I don't know anything—except for the fact that that monster, whatever it was, threw it at me! If you want to know about that damn notebook, you should track the monster down and ask it! I'm sure _he_ knows something about this story you're always going on about!"

L had heard this before, of course. But Kou seemed to have an air of exhaustion about him, some vague feeling of cooperation. Perhaps he wouldn't have to test the Death Note after all. "Very well," he said shortly. "Let's say I'm inclined to believe you. What, then, do you know of the monster? The shinigami?"

"I've told you everything," came the dull response. But this time, there was a spark of irritation in his voice. "Dark wings, dark hair, pale skin, obviously nonhuman. A monster. A shinigami, as you call it."

"Excellent," L murmured sarcastically. Kou's insistence of ignorance was frustratingly persistent. It was so persistent, in fact, that L was beginning to believe him. "Fine, then. Despite your lack of information, I am willing to strike a deal with you."

Kou's eyes widened. "A deal?"

"Yes, Hashimoto. A deal." L was beginning to strongly suspect that Kou had told him everything he knew about the Death Note and the shinigami. If that was indeed the case, then he would be willing to strike a deal with his victim. "If you answer my last question truthfully and without hesitation, then I will overlook your lack of information and provide you the protection you'll need to survive prison."

"Until my _death sentence,_ " Kou grumbled, and L was reminded once again that Kou believed he was going to kill him.

He was right.

"Will you accept this deal or not?" L snapped, unwilling to barter. He glanced down at the watch fastened against him, dangling heavily around his skinny wrist. It was eleven forty-five. In fifteen minutes, he could justify attempting to kill Kou.

"Ask the question, and we will see."

"You already know what I will ask."

Kou sighed irritably. "I suppose I do. You're going to ask me to tell you the names of my associates, aren't you?"

L remained silent. Kou didn't need an answer.

"So…" the criminal said flatly, "if I rat out my friends, I get something so flimsy as your word that you won't let me be harmed while I wait out the last of my months in prison before my execution? You expect me to just _tell_ you?"

"Would you rather die, or succumb to torture?"

"Worse torture than you've put me through already?" Kou snorted.

"You haven't seen even the _beginnings_ of what I can do to you."

The criminal laughed heartlessly. "I don't believe you, detective. What you're doing is already borderline unconstitutional; if you dare to take it a step further, the authorities will come banging down your door."

"I have already told you that I am above the law."

"That's what they all say. But in the end, they're always stopped. They're always stopped before they have a chance to hurt anyone."

"They?" L echoed in a subdued tone. "Just who do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you know…all those unfortunate officers who think they have the right to go against the law they claim to enforce."

He was undeniably arrogant. "I am only going to implore you to do this one last time, Hashimoto. If you refuse, you know what happens. Now—tell me the names of your associates, and their locations."

Kou took a moment to just stare at L, seemingly unwilling to believe his threats. But the moment was short lived. Soon enough, that expression of malice was plastered across his face, and his eyes were narrowed to slits. He bared his teeth in a nasty snarl, and in that moment, L realized that he would be testing the Death Note.

"I will tell you nothing," Kou declared fiercely. "And if you attempt to harm me further, then you will be stopped by those you claim to work for."

And still, despite all that, L decided to ask him one last time, in a more subtle way. "Did it ever occur to you that I may not work for anyone but myself?" he questioned. "Did you ever think about the fact that maybe, just maybe, I do not serve the NPA? Perhaps I work for another agency, one with no control over what I do to my captives. Or perhaps—and this is the possibility that you should be worried about—I work for no one. Perhaps I work for myself, and when I kill you, no one will know but my partner and me. What do you think of that, Hashimoto? Does it loosen your tongue?"

The criminal tilted his chin up defiantly. "Never. I will tell you nothing. I don't believe that you don't work for the NPA."

"Very well." He headed for the door, as he had so many times before in previous hours. But this time, instead of leaving immediately, he placed his hand on the doorknob and paused. "Hashimoto," he shot over his shoulder, keeping his voice to a slightly heightened murmur. "You should know that with any luck, you will be dead forty seconds after midnight."

"Wait, what—?"

The door slammed, and L retreated towards the surveillance room. No, wait—L did not _retreat._ He _never_ retreated. But still, with every passing step, L felt the flickers of fear that came inherently with retreat. He felt that fear as he moved closer and closer to the surveillance room, with the thud of every step against the cool ground. He was barefoot, as per usual, and the concrete floor of the warehouse felt coarse and gritty beneath his toes.

_This is really happening,_ he thought dismally. _I'm really going to test the notebook. I'm going to test something that I don't think can possibly be real._ It was a surreal feeling, L realized.

And then the door to the surveillance room was before him. And L was reaching out, spidery fingers splayed before him, grasping the cracked edge of the door and swinging it open, moving into the room at an awkward lurch. The notebook was tucked beneath his shirt, as it had been for the past week, but he wouldn't use it until he reached his desk. He wouldn't let himself use it in Kou's presence. It felt wrong, in a way, to do such a thing. It felt immoral. Instead, he would watch the tapes as he wrote Kou's name. It would be easy. Swift. A form of justice that would have otherwise remained undelivered.

He was at his desk. He was sitting, drawing his knees up to his chest, curling his toes around the edge of his chair. He was pulling the Death Note from beneath his shirt and laying it on the table, one hand darting out to procure a pen. He was opening the notebook, riffling through the pages until he reached one unmarred by ink. Then he turned a few more, so he was staring at two pages, side by side, with no sign of excess marking. He was looking up at the time. He was realizing that it was eleven fifty-eight, and he didn't have as much time to contemplate using the notebook as he'd hoped. He was realizing that it was now or never, and that it was time to do what he'd sworn to do.

Hmm…to test the notebook… L pressed the tip of the pen to the cream-colored pages of the Death Note, making the smallest of marks. A part of him was murmuring that this was wrong, that if he ended up killing Kou, his murder would be unforgivable—but a larger part of him was simply _done_. Done with Kou's screeching, done with his defiance, done with his lack of compliance. Just…done. And that sentiment led L to draw the pen down in a sharp line, forming a mark that was barely an inch in size, but seemed exponentially larger. Another two lines, shorter this time, formed the first letter. K. A swoop, curving around, formed an O. Another swoop, this one left unclosed, left a U behind on the yellowed pages. Kou. The first name was written, and it was exactly midnight. Three more lines. An H. A curve and another line. An A. Then L paused, staring at what he'd already written. He played at reluctance, but in his heart he had already written the final letter. And then those letters made the leap from heart to paper, and with the flourish so unlike L's normal spikey, messy scrawl, Kou's last name was carved with a permanence L knew not of.

_Kou Hashimoto._

And now for the second part of the plan.

_Kou Hashimoto. Dies of a heart attack after answering all of his interrogator's questions truthfully and without hesitation._

That was it, then. He'd pictured his face and written his name. In forty seconds, if Kou was still alive, then the notebook—and the story within—would be proven false. If it worked, then….

Well, L would get to that if it did indeed work. Now, then—he needed to go back to Kou. He realized then, with a spark of amusement, that his decision to write the criminal's name in the surveillance room rather than in the prison itself had been a bad one; he'd have to walk needlessly back if he wished to carry out the remainder of his plan. He could have laughed at his own oversight…perhaps this case was getting to him, for him to have made such a simple mistake. How very foolish of him.

He swiftly shook the amusement from his mind—he'd given himself exactly fifteen minutes to interrogate Kou before his possible death, so he'd have to be swift in his proceedings from this point on. He turned, his movements fluid with haste, and exited the room in a sweep of movement that was much unlike him. As he moved from the room he felt a childish sense of excitement sweep over him, one that he hadn't felt the likes of in years. He felt like a child experiencing the thrill of the unknown for the first time, striding towards danger with dangerous excitement. The heavy sound of feet striking stone, a sound that had seemed so dull and lifeless before, now sounded lively and excited. The sound of his breath, so heavy before, now seemed elevated and eager. He felt morbidly, _thrillingly_ excited for what was about to happen. He had been seeking answers for upwards of three weeks—and now, finally, he would have those answers. He had fifteen minutes—no, fourteen minutes now—to get them.

Ah, he was already at the door! L stopped, drawing breath harshly, almost certain that the noise had easily penetrated the thick steel of the door and reached Kou's ears. Was he waiting for L to return? Did he think that he'd really been left to die? Perhaps he was waiting with bated breath, waiting for death to take him. The image, L found, was morbidly satisfying.

He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against the steel of the door. He found himself reveling in the cool touch of the metal, forgetting, for a moment, that he was on the clock. But then he did remember, and the next moment he was pushing open the door and entering the room, barely managing to contain a small smirk as he saw the heavily stunned expression on Kou's face. The criminal's head jerked up, beady eyes trained on him with painful focus.

"Back already?" he began, clearly ready to taunt L for all his efforts. "I see that you—"

"Tell me what you know of the Death Note," L said immediately, cutting him off. He didn't have much time.

"What? I've already told you, I don't know anything, damn it! Leave me alone already!"

For a moment L was saddened, because the notebook had failed and was therefore fake, before he realized with a start that no, it hadn't failed yet—L had written that Kou would answer his _questions_. He hadn't yet asked a question. "Very well," L said, fighting a terrible surge of curiosity. "Allow me to phrase it a different way—what do you know of the Death Note?"

"I don't know anything," Kou blurted out immediately, and L would have taken it for just another one of his refutations if not for the fact that his tone, usually so fierce and full of anger, was flat and lifeless. And in a heartbeat that lack of inflection was gone, and Kou was blurting out, "What the hell? What was that? What did you just do to me?"

"You didn't mean to say that," L stated curiously, careful to phrase the sentence as a statement rather than a question as a flicker of doubt, a flicker of excitement pierced his chest. The logical part of him, the part screaming that the notebook wasn't real, and that this was a coincidence, had fallen silent.

"What?" Kou visibly recoiled, visibly collected his thoughts. "Of course I meant to say that!"

Ah, so he was trying to play it off. "Hashimoto," he said softly, "did you mean to say such a thing to me?"

"No," he said immediately in that flat, defeated tone. Then his eyes widened once more, and he gasped, "Yes! Yes, I meant to say that!"

Could…could the notebook be _working?_ Or was this just some strange fluke? There was only one way to find out. "What do you know of the shinigami?" he questioned.

"I know nothing," was the instant response. "I only said that the creature was a shinigami because you seemed interested in the concept. I thought that if I kept you interested in what I could potentially know, you would keep me out of prison for a while longer."

"Excellent," L murmured, reveling in the expression of horror that flickered across Kou's face as he realized what he was saying. "Tell me, do you know _anything_ of the Death Note, the shinigami, or the story within, at _all?_ Or was this all just a guise to save your own hide?"

"I know nothing."

Fascinating…was it the truth? It had to be—Kou's expression, his tone of voice…it was all too _genuine_ to be an act. But there was that final question, the one that Kou had so far refused to answer with even the barest of hints. If he answered that question, and his information proved to be correct, then there could be no doubt as to the notebook's authenticity. "Kou Hashimoto…" L began slowly, "tell me…what are the names of your associates?"

"I don't know all of their names," came the answer. "I only know three—the leader of the operation is called Yukina Sotoba, and two of his more important lackeys are called Hijiri Anze and Kotoro Izumi."

"Why don't you know more names? You are their informant, are you not?"

"I was only ever asked to deliver information to those three people, so there was no need for me to know the names of the other participants. The organization is set up so that even if one person is caught, that one person only knows of one or two other members. In other words, the only person who knows the names of all the members of the organization is Sotoba himself—and he's not likely to tell. This way, we can only be eradicated if every single member is hunted down."

"In that case, it seems foolish that you hoped that you would be rescued by the members of your little organization. If you truly only know of three other members, then your loss isn't much of a security threat."

Kou didn't respond. He simply ground his teeth, as if that simple physical reaction could stop whatever strange power was grasping him.

"What is their location?" L asked suddenly.

"Their main center of operations lies within the Tenth Street Warehouse."

That was it, then—all L had to do was check the information, and he would know if Kou was telling the truth. And then there was the matter of the validity of the Death Note itself. It was currently 12:13. Two minutes remained until the Death Note would either prove its functionality or become entirely useless. Although, considering Kou's immediate responses to his questions, he was beginning to have his suspicions about its authenticity. Could it be real? Could the supernatural really exist, as evidence was beginning to suggest that it did?

"H-how did you…?" Kou stuttered, and all of his previous confidence was gone. "There's no way…"

L looked up at the criminal. "I warned you that if you did not answer my questions, I would make you," he stated simply. "This isn't exactly how I expected this to go, but still—I was good on my word, was I not?"

"You…you're going to…"

L knew what he was thinking. The criminal feared being sent to prison. "Fear not," L murmured. "If I'm correct, and the notebook works, then you will be dead in…" He checked his watch. "…one minute and fifteen seconds…fourteen…thirteen…twelve…"

"Dead?" Kou yelped, as if he was just now understanding the severity of the word. "And what do you mean by the notebook working? What's going on?"

"I don't know," L admitted in a low tone. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Kou stared at him with wide eyes, and L knew that he was longing to speak, to ask questions, to understand what was happening to him—but still he said nothing, and L felt the tiniest glimmer of respect for the man. To remain silent in the face of probable death was no small feat. L, of all people, would know.

The seconds ticked away, and there was silence. L stared, Kou stared, but neither dared to breach the silence that had fallen so heavily between them. Kou, the criminal, waiting with bated breath for the ceasing of his life, and L, the detective, waiting with equally bated breath for his suspicions to be proven valid.

L's eyes flickered to his watch. Ten seconds. Then there were nine. Then eight, the needle ticking— _probably ticking_ —Kou's life away. Seven seconds, then six, then five, and Kou was recoiling, pressing himself back into a wall as if anticipating his own demise. Four, three, two, and L was inching forwards, curiosity overtaking him.

One—and then it happened.

L choked back a gasp as the final second ticked away, and in a single instant, Kou's eyes rolled back in his head as his hands rose to his chest. His lips parted, as if to utter some unknowable gasp of pain, but he remained completely silent as he remained standing at first, soon collapsing to his knees. It was quite a sight to behold, L thought with morbid fascination. The classic criminal kneeling before his captor, kneeling before _L._ And then that kneel was no longer physically possible, and Kou was falling onto his front, choking on his own saliva and clawing at his chest as he no doubt felt a deep, cleaving pain. And in that same moment L realized that this was really happening, that Kou was _dying,_ and he threw the notebook to the ground in a swift, reflexive movement, as if casting some terrible toxin away from his flesh. The notebook's pages opened as it struck the ground, the pages riffling open to the most recently inked one—the one reading _Kou Hashimoto,_ followed by a description of his death. The words, carved out in midnight ink, stared up at L accusingly. _You did this,_ they whispered in a tauntingly gentle tone. _You killed him. Do you see him dying there, spread out across the ground?_

L's eyes returned to Kou's twitching form, and he was both horrified and enthralled to see that his breath was slowing, that the last beats of his heart were fading into nothing. He was dying. No, L thought, as the criminal's eyes slipped closed with one last whisper of fury. He wasn't dying—he was already dead. And indeed, even as the foul thought crossed his mind, Kou's chest stilled against the cool steel beneath him, and the deed was done.

L found himself falling back, but not in the way Kou had fallen—instead, his palms fastened to the walls beside him and he caught himself, half leaning against the cool steel. His eyes found the monster of a notebook, and it stared back at him with red eyes that weren't really there. "You did it," L whispered aloud, though he wasn't sure to whom he was speaking. "You killed someone. _I…_ killed someone?"

It wasn't as if it was a rare occurrence—L's job brought with it certain risks. Risks of death, risks of pain, risks of an ache so deep that not even the best sorts of treatment, medical or no, could subdue it. And those risks led to the deaths of criminals, more than L could count. He'd even pulled the trigger on one or two in his day. But this…this was _different._ He'd killed someone. He'd _killed_ someone with a _notebook._

No, no—surely it wasn't true! He'd have to test it again, a few more times to be certain that it wasn't some strange fluke. He'd have to test it again. And then again. And then after that, maybe he'd test it again just to be sure. Just to be sure.

L was stooped, moving away from the wall to retrieve the Death Note, when he hesitated. _I shouldn't touch it,_ he realized suddenly. _Before, when I thought it was fake, I was okay with laying hands on it…but now that it could be real, I shouldn't touch it with bare skin alone. A cloth…a glove…some sort of protection._ He immediately spotted a rag, no doubt left from one of Watari's interrogation sessions, and he scooped it up immediately and used it as a buffer between him and the notebook. He would not touch it, he would _never_ touch it. Use it he would, but to touch the thing with his bare skin now seemed like some sort of blasphemy. Nothing good would come of it. Carefully, then, L closed the notebook back up without touching the pages. His eyes skimmed just briefly over the black ink forming the story written within, and he had a sudden thought. If the notebook had just been proven real…then the story was most likely real as well. Or at least, it was real to an _extent._ He just had to figure out what that extent was.

Two weeks, thought L. He had two weeks before the first event written in the notebook—the elimination of A's parents—came to pass. He'd have to find a way to stop it, or if he couldn't, to document its occurrence. And _oh_ —suddenly he was increasingly overwhelmed _,_ because he was just realizing that if the notebook was real, then all of the information he'd been blatantly throwing away and disregarding had to be real as well—and he was realizing that K was a real person, and that he'dgone up against him as L, and that he'd worked with the NPA in Japan, and that everything was most likely _real._ And he was suddenly reexamining everything that he'd read in the past weeks. He'd read everything—he'd read about meeting K in person after so many weeks of dancing around each other, he'd read about A's sudden involvement as K's partner, he'd read about his own struggle to escape his impending death, he'd read about his struggle to steer the task force in the right direction. He'd read about K's confinement, and A's confinement, and their continued insistence that they were innocent when L was so convinced that they were not. He'd read about how, despite his wishes, he'd been forced to release the both of them, and how immediately afterwards, they had begun to work to fight Yotsuba Corp. He'd read of his certainty of K's identity, though that identity was never actually stated—and lastly, he'd read of K's release from the handcuffs that had bound them together. That was where he'd stopped, however. In the story, he'd been on the roof, standing in the rain, when he'd had to stop reading. He was almost done, too. But now…now that he thought that the story might have some relevancy…he'd hasten to finish the tale. Now, if at all possible. After all, if the notebook was real, then he'd have to prepare for whatever came next.

L pushed himself away from the wall, notebook clutched tightly between the cloth that was squeezed so firmly beneath his fingers. He should leave. He should leave and tell Watari that he'd gotten the information he desired from Kou, and that afterwards the criminal had fallen into cardiac arrest and was unable to be saved. Afterwards, in secret, he would conduct a few more tests to make sure the notebook was real. He'd choose criminals, perhaps, and kill them in the days preceding their execution to make sure the Death Note was real.

_But…won't that make me just as bad as K?_ L questioned. _There's no doubt about it—what he was doing was wrong, and here I am, doing the same thing._

But no, L reasoned silently—that wasn't true. He wasn't doing this to purify the world, he was doing this to…well…

Why was he doing this?

Ah, he knew why! It was because if the notebook was real, he had an obligation to take K out before he did any more damage! That was it!

Smug at the prospect of having justification for his actions, L turned away, eager to leave the room before Watari came back and saw what had occurred. He closed the door silently behind him and headed down the hall for the nth time that day, this time with steps both heavier and lighter than before.

And it was then that he realized something, something that he hadn't realized before.

For that whole span of time—from when he'd written Kou's name to when he'd watched him die, convulsing pathetically upon the cold, steel ground…he hadn't felt the dull teeth of boredom.

And that, he thought, was the most dangerous thing of all.

†††

Ryuk carried himself towards the portal to the human world on swift wings, moving faster than he had in quite some time. The boss had told him that when he returned to the human world, four weeks would have passed. But there was still the slightest spark of hope, the tiniest inkling of optimism, that told him that if he hurried to the portal, he could beat the clock and get the runaway shinigami's notebook back without more than a moment of trouble. Logically, he knew that the boss was never wrong, and that when he returned to the human world he'd be exactly where the boss said he'd be—four weeks in the future, with the notebook he sought already far, far away—but still, he flew faster than he had in years. And then he saw it—a dark, starless void surrounded by spires of rock that shimmered unnaturally in the sunless light of the shinigami realm. He'd made it to the portal without being killed, it seemed. It was more than he'd expected.

Now, then—his next move was obvious. Before he leapt into the portal and rejoined the human world, he would have to know where the owner of the runaway shinigami's notebook—Kou Hashimoto—was hiding. Ryuk approached the portal and hovered above it, staring into the swirling depths with searching eyes. This was one of the many convenient aspects of the portal—so long as he knew a human's name and face, he could easily locate them in the human world. And so he pictured Kou Hashimoto's face, kept his name in mind, and attempted to bring him to the forefront of the portal.

And then Ryuk frowned, and concentrated harder than before. Then he concentrated even more. Then even more, until he thought the remnants of his brain would leak from the remnants of his ears. And as he concentrated even harder than that, he realized that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

He couldn't find the owner of the Death Note.

He was fairly certain that that was _not_ was supposed to happen—because if he couldn't find Hashimoto through use of the portal, then there was only one explanation.

Kou Hashimoto was dead.

He was dead, and Ryuk couldn't find a dead man through the portal. And if he was dead… Ryuk shuddered as he realized with a start that the notebook could be _anywhere._ If Hashimoto was no longer the owner, then who was? Perhaps that police officer that had cornered the criminal in the alleyway? If Kou had been killed by that officer, and then said officer had confiscated the Death Note, then that would make him the owner. Perfect, then! Ryuk could just check the portal for that police officer, and then—

Oh.

Oh, well that was a problem.

Staring into the portal, Ryuk realized, a sinking feeling swiftly overtaking the space where his stomach should have been, that he hadn't read the name of the police officer. In fact, had his name even been visible? Had his face been covered, perhaps? Either way, it didn't matter—the bottom line was, the notebook was still in the human world, Ryuk needed it in order to save his own skin, and he had absolutely no idea how to locate it.

It was likely that it was in Japan, probably in the Kanto region. It was likely that it was with the police, seeing as Hashimoto had been captured by a police officer shortly before his death. So, then—Ryuk should head down to earth and follow a member of the NPA around for a while to see if he could learn anything. There was only one problem with that, unfortunately. If he wanted to stay on earth, the shinigami law stated that he had to give his notebook to a human. He wouldn't have a choice; once he was on earth, his notebook would have to be in the hands of a human. So, then, who would be the best human to give his Death Note to?

Ryuk stared down through the portal, eyes flickering from human to human walking the streets of the Kanto region. No, not him…not him either…not her…

Hmph…it was so _boring_ to simply watchthe humans through a portal _._ Perhaps he should just go to earth in order to find someone. Someone closely connected to the NPA.

Yes, that was it! Ryuk wasn't a fool; he knew that he didn't know nearly enough about humans to figure out who had the notebook. Their mannerisms, their strange decision-making skills—it was beyond him. If he wanted to understand them enough to figure out where one may have hidden the notebook, then he would have to have someone to help him track it down. Preferably, he would enlist the help of someone closely connected to the NPA. And, of course, to speed things up, he would most likely wish to give his notebook to someone intelligent enough to track the other Death Note down swiftly.

Someone with high intelligence, connected to the NPA.

Those were some specific stipulations. Painfully specific, in fact. Ryuk had a hard time believing that he'd be able to find someone like _that._ But still—if he wanted to live, he had to try.

And so with that, Ryuk leapt into the portal, heading for the Kanto region of Japan.

†††

"Follow the teachings of God and receive his blessings, and so it shall be that the seas will again become bountiful, and the raging storms will subside."

There was a moment of silence, as there always was after he was asked to translate in class. It was an irritating curse at times, he thought, that his voice was so mesmerizing, his intelligence so alluring. It seemed that his English class was always filled with soft murmuring and mindless whispers until the exact moment in which he stood, book in hand, ready to translate this sentence or that with textbook precision. Then the noise would stop, all eyes would lock onto him, and he could practically _feel_ the glow of admiration emitting from a choice few females in the class, and more interestingly, a few males.

"Very good!" the teacher exclaimed, as if he too were drawn to his student's melodious voice. "Excellent, Light!"

And he nodded politely, as he had trained himself to do at the early age of three, and took his seat with graceful dignity, as he had trained himself to do a mere month later. This was the routine—meet expectations, _exceed_ expectations, then exceed them again, and again, until the days melted into weeks, the weeks melted into months, and the months melted into years that seemed to have no value. Then, when praised for a display of uncanny intelligence, simply practice that police nod, act like such a display of pure brilliance was weightless, and sit back down, preparing to do the same thing the nexttime something of a similar nature occurred. Indeed, this was the routine. This was his life. The life of one Light Yagami.

His short speech over and done with, the low murmurs slowly began to return. The eyes slowly peeled off his back and returned to whatever frivolous pursuit they had previously been undertaking. Some returned to their cellular devices, some continued their hushed conversations, and some—the few who were actually hoping to _pass_ English Language and Composition—began frantically scribbling notes in their notebooks. Light's notebook, the crisp white binding of paper that he'd been asked to procure for the class, remained untouched by any sort of writing implement. He didn't need it. Nor did he need the textbook, which sat forlornly on the corner of his desk, staring back at him balefully. He glared at it—though he was careful to make sure the expression of anger didn't spread further than his eyes. If anyone saw his features twist into a sick mockery of anger, then it could easily shatter his calm, collected reputation. And he couldn't have _that,_ now, could he?

"Okay then, class," the teacher said in English that, while grammatically correct, contained quite a heavy accent. "For homework, I want you to translate the concluding essay of unit nine, answer the questions for comprehension, and email me your response before the beginning of class tomorrow."

Hmph. Child's play. As the professor gave a few words of farewell, Light got to his feet and gathered his things delicately. Everything had it's own place—books went in the main pocket of his bag, his notebook went in the side pocket, pencils went in their respective holders, pens were stored in protective casing, erasers were tucked into a netted pocket…it was all perfectly pristine. _Pristine—_ the perfect word, as far as Light was concerned, to describe himself.

Slinging his bag over one shoulder, Light headed for the door. He felt a prick of irritation as he passed a group of female students who were struggling to decipher what the teacher had asked them to do for homework.

"I mean," one shrieked, "how are we supposed to understand what he's saying? Why does he have to say everything in English?"

_Because you're in your fifth year of English,_ Light responded silently, careful to keep the irritation out of his expression as he passed them. _Imbeciles._ He picked his way through his classmates, offering a few superficial smiles to those few he considered worthy of a moment of his time, and reached the door several seconds later than he would have hoped. He exited into the hallway a heartbeat after that, then made his way out into the courtyard, as he did every day. Then he found a bench, as he did every day, and he sat, as he did every day. He withdrew a book from his bag and opened it, just as he did every day. And then, as always, he turned his eyes to the words adorning the pages and retreated into the depths of his own mind. This, too, was routine. The world around him was boring, bland, unexciting—but in his own mind he found solace. His own mind, the only interesting thing he'd ever encountered.

This, Light knew was his curse. A terrible curse, the likes of which had surely never been experienced by anyone before him.

Boredom.

It had started at a very young age, beginning the moment he'd become old enough to learn to read, write, and perform basic mathematical maneuvers. He'd studied hard, despite his mother's insistence that he spend time outside with other children, and by the time he entered third grade, he was prepared for a high school level algebra course. He'd expected his classmates to be on the same level as him. In fact, he'd even worried that perhaps he would have insufficient knowledge compared to the rest of his classmates. He'd entered the classroom that fateful day, ready to discuss the finer points of Greek mythology, which he'd been reading up on at the time, when he discovered something terrible. Something _horrifying._

His fellow students—they didn't even know who Odysseus, a _figurehead_ of Greek mythology, _was._ And not just that; they'd never even heard the word algebra, and they were ignorant as to the definitions of simple words _._ And in terms of finding conversation in the form of popular TV shows, Light could find nothing—he hadn't spent much time watching television, but the time he had spent was largely dedicated to the History Channel, or more often, The Discovery Channel. Very few of his fellow classmates, he found, took pleasure in learning about Japanese history.

That was when Light realized just how different he was. It was also when he realized that being different was bad. Back before he'd grown into his charming persona, velvety voice, and admittedly _gorgeous_ looks, he'd just been a freak. Someone to be made fun of, all because he could have taught the class he was attending. And then there were his parents. When asked by teachers to allow him to skip several grades, they'd just laughed. _He'll lose all his friends,_ they'd said, the barest hints of a laugh still fading from their voice. _No, no, he shouldn't skip any grades. He'll be happier with children his age._

And unfortunately, Light found, that was _not_ true. There were times—more than he cared to admit—when he wished that he'd forced his parents to see reason. But he just wasn't like that. He kept quiet, accepted what his parents wished of him, and waited his early education out. Time passed, and things got better. When he entered high school, the more intelligent students were swiftly separated from the dull-minded imbeciles that he so despised. But even then, he knew that he didn't belong. He was still better, still sharper than the second best student by a long shot. And as he realized that his situation was stuck in a perpetual limbo, he began to find other things to amuse himself. His father's cases swiftly became his main interest. It took him five minutes with his father's computer to figure out how to hack into the NPA's system, and another three to solve one of the so-called _unsolvable_ cases that his father had been going on about. In five more, he'd solved another. He was smart about it, however, as he was naturally inclined to be. He left anonymous tips, used digitally altered tapes that explained whatever had confounded the officers. No one was ever able to track it back to him, and most of the time the credit was given to L, the mysterious ghost of the justice system. Hmph…Light had plenty of thoughts on the mysterious detective—but now, he knew, was not the time. There were other things to be contemplated.

The practice of solving his father's cases had continued to present day. He still left tips, the credit was still given to L, and the cycle repeated. However, as time passed, and the cases remained the same, the boredom crept back into Light's bloodstream like a sluggishly deadly poison. He'd bit and scratched at it for several years, of course. But eventually, it became far too tiresome to constantly think of new ways to entertain himself. And so he fell into a routine and told himself with every passing day that when he hit college, he would break free of the shell of boredom that encased him. He'd begin his studies to become a detective, and it would _not,_ he vowed, be _anything_ like high school. No matter what, he'd make sure that the poisonous boredom was quelled. But until then, he waited. He waited on the same bench every day, with the same thoughts flowing through his mind. He waited for something, _anything,_ to happen.

And unfortunately, nothing ever did.

It was of no matter, Light tried to convince himself—after all, there was only a few more weeks until he took the placement exam, and then he'd leave his dreary situation behind forever (well, _almost_ forever. Light had no doubt that he'd still have to deal with the intellectually challenged masses, but at least once he got out of high school, he figured he'd be around people that at the very least shared his enthusiasm for police work).

The bell rang suddenly, piercing the still air with its high-pitched wail, but Light stayed where he was. He was supposed to be heading to calculus, but he felt far too tired to have to deal with other humans—and he'd taught himself the next several units the day before in an attempt to alleviate his boredom, so he didn't have much to lose by skipping a single class period. He'd just hack into the system later and change the numbers so it appeared that he'd been in attendance, while in reality he could spare himself the annoyance of his fellow classmates.

Light's eyes tracked the movement of a few students as they scrambled to get to class. He wondered, if only for a moment, what it was like for them—to feel, instead of boredom, a sense of general interest in the small, insignificant details of life. What must it be like, to be only concerned with the present day, and not what inevitable future loomed on the horizon? _No, no…I can't think about this right now…_ Light shook his head lightly, clearing those detrimental thoughts from his mind. He'd been down that particular path many times before; it only served to irritate him. He didn't wish to depress himself, especially not when he was already in such a dark mood.

Hmph…it was too late for that, it seemed. Even in such a short period of time, he'd managed to worsen his mood.

Light got to his feet. When he felt like this, not even sitting alone could calm him. Perhaps he would head to his favorite coffee shop for the rest of the day and study to take his mind off his frustratingly potent boredom. He pulled his bag over his shoulder, making sure all his things were still perfectly in place, before turning his head skyward for just a moment to stare up at the bright, cloudless sky. The cheery mood of the day just seemed to push his irritation further.

"How drab…" he murmured aloud, taking comfort in the fact that there were no other students around to hear him talking to himself. It was a practice rarely used, for he knew how his reputation could suffer should anyone come to the conclusion that he was mentally unstable. "How… _boring."_ He dipped his head back towards the ground, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks and beginning to make his way towards the school's exit. His shoes formed tiny scrape marks on the dusty ground beneath his feet as he allowed himself to drag his feet ever so slightly.

There was a slight rustle, emanating from the space behind him.

Light paused, half convinced that he'd imagined the noise. He didn't allow himself to turn and look. Instead, he continued his slow progression towards the café, which resided a block away from the school.

That rustle sounded again.

He resisted the urge to groan, set on the fact that the world was against him on this particular day. _Just keep walking…don't let yourself become distracted…_

The rustle sounded yet again, and this time, something else happened simultaneously.

There was the sound of something falling through the air, something with considerable weight. Then there was a soft thud, as if that something had struck the ground just behind him.

And Light, inadvertently, had stopped moving. And then, just as inadvertently, he was turning, despite his promise to himself that he wouldn't.

_Hmm? What on earth is that thing?_ Light took a small step towards the object resting in the grass behind him. His eyes raked over it, and he saw it all—the black cover, the white lettering, the way the sun reflected off the sleek cover. Light stretched out a hand towards it curiously, certain that it hadn't been there the moment before. _That's strange…I didn't notice myself get this close to it…_

His fingers stretched out, brushing against the cover of the thing, which, on closer inspection, he saw was a notebook. And the instant his fingertips made contact, he felt a light shock run through him, as if he'd grasped a damaged wire. He leaned up, clasping the notebook between his hands. His eyes, if only for a moment, skirted around the courtyard, as if he expected to see something new—but no, that was ridiculous. Nothing had changed. Light turned his gaze back to the notebook. _Death Note,_ he read slowly. It was in English. He peeled open the cover and stared inside, curious as to the nature of this little book.

_The human's whose name is written in the notebook shall die._

Light could have laughed. In fact, he almost did. The statement was simply a manipulation of truth—after all, since all humans were subject to the failing struggle of their heart, it was completely true that to write any human's name _anywhere_ would mean that that person would, eventually die. _How foolish,_ Light acknowledged with an amused huff. It had entertained him for a heartbeat, at least. He placed the notebook back on the ground and began to walk away. _A notebook of death…how absurd. It's quite an interesting prank, I must admit._ He took one more step. Two. Three.

Then he paused.

He stared back at the notebook as some faint glimmer of excitement flickered in his chest. _What if it's real?_ Well, it was obvious that it _wasn't_ real—so that should be more than enough to let him turn away and leave. But something stopped him every time he tried to take another step. And so, an exasperated breath tingling against his lips, he whirled around and stomped back over to the thing (no, no, that wasn't right—Light Yagami did not _stomp_ ) and picked it back up. He stared at it for a mere moment longer before shoving into his bag. His eyes flitted nervously back towards the wing of classrooms to his left, then to his right, searching for the prankster who had somehow managed to drop the notebook behind him without him noticing their presence. But there was no one in sight.

And so with that, notebook tucked into his bag, curiosity blooming in his heart for the first time in forever, Light Yagami turned around and headed for the café.

†††

_Well, look at that…he took it._

Ryuk floated overhead, careful to keep out of sight of the human who had just picked up Sidoh's notebook. _Light Yagami,_ his name read. He was the perfect candidate for the job of tracking down the owner of the runaway shinigami's notebook. He'd found NPA headquarters without much trouble, having determined that the owner of his notebook should be someone with both high intelligence and connections to the NPA. He'd headed inside and snooped around inside for a while, looking for someone who fit the bill, but no one seemed… _right._ Normally, he would have thrown his notebook at any old human that passed by. He didn't _choose_ anyone, so said his philosophy. It was just luck—nothing more, nothing less. But now, when his life was at stake, he found himself pickier with who he tied himself to.

It had taken him less than an hour to figure out that no one in the NPA was good enough. This revelation was quite frustrating, of course, seeing as his ideal target was someone with connections to the agency. With that figured out, he did the next best thing—he followed someone home. And as fate would have it, that someone just happened to be Soichiro Yagami. It made sense, he thought, that he track the head of police rather than some meaningless lackey—and so that's what he did. He followed the chief home, and when he got there, he was immediately interested to see that he had two children. _Perfect,_ he'd thought. _These two are both connected to the police. Perhaps one of them has what I'm looking for._

He'd started with the girl—Sayu Yagami. It had taken him all of five minutes to figure out that she wasn't exactly a prime candidate. After all, Ryuk was looking for _intelligence,_ and she was not only too young to be of much use, but she was also a girl of average intelligence at best. Next he'd taken into consideration the chief's wife, hoping that her older age would transfer nicely into intelligence. But he'd been disappointed to find that while she was definitely more intelligent than her daughter, she was still a far cry from what he was looking for. The intelligence he needed was not the sort that specialized in household chores. He needed someone willing to use their own intellectual prowess with cunning, ruthless abandon—and that someone, he found, was Soichiro Yagami's son.

Light Yagami. He was the last person Ryuk considered from the Yagami household. He'd almost overlooked him entirely, assuming that the entire family was worthless. But he'd happened to phase through the wall of the eldest Yagami child's room on his way out of the house, and something had stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly. But whatever it was, he'd stopped, and he'd realized swiftly that Light Yagami was exactly the kind of person he was looking for. The signs were obvious—his meticulous speech, his obvious exasperation with other members of his own species—and most importantly, that cold, calculated _ruthlessness_ that shone so clearly from his amber eyes. It was obvious to see from just a single glance that the elder Yagami child possessed a cunning persona unlike any Ryuk had ever seen in a human before. He'd almost been convinced to give the child his notebook then and there—and then he'd seen said child hacking into his father's laptop and solving his cases for him, and the deal was closed. Ryuk decided, then and there, that he'd found the new owner of Sidoh's notebook. He'd just had to wait until the Yagami child was alone, so no one else could possibly pick up his notebook. Even then, when he dropped the Death Note before Light while he was absent from the company of others, there was the possibility that he wouldn't pick it up. But then, when Light had looked up at the sky—coincidentally staring right at Ryuk, for at that particular moment he was descending in order to drop his Death Note—he'd said those four words that had completely assured Ryuk that he was placing his faith in the right person.

_How drab…_ the child had murmured. _How boring…_

And then, without a second thought, Ryuk dropped his notebook into the human world. And just as he'd predicted, Light picked it up. By then, he was already far away. If the child saw him too early, he'd panic and draw attention to himself. It was better to wait and let him discover the supernatural properties of the notebook before revealing to him the existence of shinigami. And he _would_ discover them, for the child had directly stated that he was bored. Ryuk knew better than anyone the results of boredom. It would, without doubt, lead the Yagami child to explore the opportunities the Death Note had to offer.

It was just a matter of time. Soon enough, Ryuk told himself, he would be able to appear to the owner of the Death Note—and when he did, he would be able to begin his search for the rogue shinigami's Death Note.

†††

Not terribly far away, L sat silently at his desk. The lights were completely dimmed around him, the only illumination emanating from the screen of his laptop. The detective's hands, carefully covered with cloth gloves, rested limply on the coarse surface of his wooden desk, his head drooped against his knees. But his eyes…his eyes stared straight down at the notebook spread out before him, flipped open to the halfway point, where the story ended. On the other page, the page adjacent to the story's end, three names were written. One was Kou's, of course. But the other two were different, the names of criminals scheduled for execution the following day. L had written their names down a few hours prior, and just as written, they had perished. It was now hard to believe that the notebook's power was false.

But this wasn't the reason for L's obvious dejectedness. No…not even close. The reason for L's lowered head, his limp hands, his weakly curved spine, was the final line in the notebook's story. The line was written in swift, sloppy handwriting, as if the writer was running out of time at the moment of inscription.

"Well…" L murmured softly, free to speak aloud seeing as Watari was out of the room. "This is unexpected." His fingers brushed across the words with gentle reverence. His heart clenched in his chest briefly as he reread them, as he'd spent the past thirty minutes doing again, and again, and again, and again…

_November 5, 2004: L is killed._

It was the wording that bothered him the most. _L is killed._ Not, _L dies._ Not, _L dies of natural forces._ Not _L just so happens to die during the investigation._ Just… _L is killed._ Killed, as in intentionally extinguished. Someone wanted to murder him—and they succeeded. If the story was real—and he was beginning to think that it was—then it seemed that he would die within the next two years. But who…who killed him? K, with his fierce hatred and ruthless persona? A shinigami? Something, or _someone_ else?

He didn't know. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know. But still…now that he'd finished the story (or at least, his part of it, for he was sure that he did not hold the story's conclusion), more and more questions were flooding his mind. First of all, and most importantly, was it real? He would know the answer to that particular question soon, seeing as the first event depicted would come to pass in a little less than two weeks. If the event did, in fact, happen, then he would have his answer.

But the more intriguing question was this: if the story was real, would he be able to change anything? Could he prevent any of the events depicted? More specifically, could he prevent his death? Surely, by merely gaining the knowledge of its imminence, he had already changed his fate. Knowledge alone had given him the opportunities to change it, surely. For instance, now he had many, _many_ clues as to K's identity. If he figured it out before November 5th and arrested him, then he wouldn't be able to kill him. Unless he wasn't the cause of L's death, that is. But still, the principal was the same—if L could change a few things, no matter how small, he should be able to upset the outcome of the story as a whole. Was that not logical? Was that not true? And if not…was his fate already sealed?

Would he…die?

L shivered at the thought, his hands shaking slightly against the coarse pages of the notebook. Even if it was hopeless, even if it was already too late…he had to try, had to _attempt._ For if he didn't, his life would be for naught, and he would lose his chance to continue ridding the world of its surplus of criminals.

So that was it, then—from this moment on, L would attempt to do the impossible.

L would attempt to save his own life.


	5. Berkano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm heading to an anime convention in the morning, so I won't be in town to post this on Saturday like usual. So here it is a day early! I'm really excited about the convention. I'm going with a friend, and we're cosplaying as Natsu and Gray from Fairy Tail one day, then as Frisk and Chara from Undertale the next. It's going to be so much fun!  
> Anyways, thanks for the awesome support so far. I'm honestly floored by some of the responses I've gotten, and some of the comments have made my day :)

Two weeks, and there it was.

L's eyes locked onto his computer disbelievingly, hardly able to accept what he was seeing; the facts splayed out before his very eyes.

_American pop star Misa Amane's parents were brutally murdered last night at the hands of an unknown assailant. The criminal was reportedly attempting to rob the Amane household when the parents awoke and attempted to stop said criminal from carrying out his twisted crime. Unfortunately, the criminal was armed with a gun, and Mrs. Amane was shot and killed immediately. Upon attempting to stop the criminal from further actions, Mr. Amane attempted to incapacitate him. But as evidenced by security cameras set up around the Amane household, although Mr. Amane managed to stop the criminal, it wasn't until after he'd been fatally wounded. He died shortly before the police arrived. However, not all was lost in this fateful attack. Misa Amane, upcoming model and pop star, was present at the time of the attack, and she remains alive. She has identified the criminal, although no names have been released, and the criminal is currently waiting in a Californian prison until his court hearing. Until then, Misa Amane intends to remain in her childhood home, and has stated that she will continue her work in the modeling industry._

That was the official report. The police report, on the other hand, was much different, much less sugar coated. It was brutal, it was bloody, it was _horrific._

It was exactly as the notebook predicted.

L refused to recount the details of what had been done to Amane's parents. It was too bloody, even for him. The criminal who had attacked them was less than human; he was demented, he was an _animal._ He didn't deserve to live, not after what he'd done. But that was okay, L knew, because according to the notebook, the criminal would be dying in exactly one week. Also according to the notebook, one day after that one week, A would travel to Japan to attempt to contact K.

Speaking of which, also in one week, K would begin to kill using the Death Note. And L…what would he do?

It made sense, he thought, that he would attempt to stop K by any means possible. It's what he'd done in the story depicted in the Death Note. It's what he thought was right.

…Right?

He had to admit, the potential to immediately eliminate crime from the world with the brief press of pen to paper was quite appealing. However, he knew that it could never be so simple. To begin wiping out all known criminals systematically provided no end of trouble. For example, what of those wrongly convicted? If he killed _all_ known criminals, then he'd be murdering innocents. But then, how was he to know which ones had been wrongly convicted? If he wanted to be sure, then he'd have to reexamine the case of each and every criminal he wished to eliminate. And even then, there were problems. As rare as it was, there were instances in which L was wrong. And if he was wrong even once when examining the cases of criminals he wished to be rid of…

He'd be a murderer.

No…he'd be a murderer either way. But if he murdered even one innocent person on his quest to make the world a better place, then he'd be no better than the worst of them all. He'd be no better than K—a child, thrashing around blindly in the dark.

But on the other hand…if he _was_ able to be certain of a criminal's lack of innocence, and he could get said criminal sentenced to death…then what was stopping him from using the Death Note? Why did he even have to wait until they were sentenced to death? Shifting uncomfortably, L thought, _in any case, what gives me the right to judge someone else as unworthy of life? But…but then, what gives anyone else that right? Who's to say that any of us have such a right? And if no one does have that authority, then what's stopping me from stepping up to the plate and_ giving _myself the right to judge criminals? To kill them?_

That…was a slippery slope. If L just started offing criminals he knew were guilty (and again, sometimes it was impossible for even him to know), then how far could he go before he crossed the line? When would he have gone too far? For example, who was to say what crimes were considered punishable by death? Could he kill a robber? A murderer? A rapist? Just how blurred was this line, this line separating good intentions and the road to hell?

A catch-22…a no-win situation. But still, the fact remained—if L could lawfully convict a criminal of a crime serious enough to earn the death penalty, then it was rather difficult to come up with a reason explaining why he shouldn't just kill said criminal. It was the same either way—the only difference was the few short days L would be stealing. But if he was going to do that, then why should he even bother to use the Death Note? The criminal would die either way. What difference did a few days make?

Well, the answer was simple—it made no difference. In the long run, if L didn't intend to do what K had done and go on a killing rampage, then the notebook was largely useless to him. He should burn it and be rid of the thing forever.

He should _not_ use it.

But still…L dragged his gloved fingertips across the coarse pages of the notebook, which was splayed out on the desk a few inches below his stooped head. He'd sworn not to use the thing—or at least, he'd firmly suggested to himself that he leave it alone. And yet here he was, two weeks after using the notebook for the first time, and…

L winced, unwilling to think to himself the morally compromising situation he'd gotten himself into. If he ignored it, if he didn't think about it, then maybe he'd be able to convince himself that he hadn't done it. Maybe he'd be willing to forget the list of names staring him in the face. A list of names that _he'd_ written.

He'd told himself he wouldn't use it. But in the end, he'd picked up a pen—but not after a good few hours of agonizing over the decision—and gone to work. Kou had given him the names of his fellow gang members. He'd given him their location. And L, in the most vicious show of violence he'd ever experienced, sat down at his desk the night after Kou told him everything and wrote all of their names—but not, of course, before performing a search of the police database in order to gain the knowledge of their faces. L would have loved to say that he stopped there. That he hadn't continued to write the names of criminals. Unfortunately, though, that was exactly what he'd done. He knew, however, that he wasn't doing what K had done. Instead of blindly thrashing about, lashing out at random criminals, L had taken a different path. It was a given, seeing as he had solved such a plethora of cases, that there were those certain criminals who had been sentenced to death, but had then exploited the system and found a way to keep themselves alive. They were in jail, yes, and awaiting death—but it was a death that L knew, with a heavy heart, would never come.

That is, until he gained the Death Note.

His resolve hadn't lasted very long. He'd justified his actions by telling himself that his victims had already been condemned to death, and then he'd pried open his notebook and written their names. That brought his total up to thirty-seven people. He'd killed thirty-seven people using the Death Note.

And now, he was about to kill another.

L's eyes rose from the notebook, flitting towards the dim screen of his laptop. This one was just like all the others. Another lowly criminal, only alive through exploitation and manipulation. L had caught him a few weeks prior, and he was given a death sentence that he'd swiftly been able to avoid. Now he was going to pay. L felt no sense of righteous revenge as he pressed the pen to paper. Or at least, he _told_ himself that he didn't—for if he did, then who was to say that he was so different from K? And he _had_ to be different from K.

There—it was already done. L drew his pen back from the page of the Death Note, staring down at the newly formed letters. They were written with childish sharpness, as if the writer had only just learned to form the words. But still, they _were_ words—and they were words that would rend a soul from its body.

Thirty-eight…thirty-nine…forty.

L stared at the image of the criminal on the screen. His mind wandered, if only for a moment, back to the section of rules in the beginning of the notebook. Said rules were countless _,_ ranging from everything to shinigami eyes to the technicalities of controlling humans' actions—and one of those rules stated that once a human was killed, a human with the shinigami eyes would no longer be able to see their name hovering above their picture. L wondered, staring at the photo with fascination, if it was true. If he had the shinigami eyes…if he was willing to give away half his lifespan…would he be able to see it? He was so very curious…

L heard footsteps shuffling down the hall outside his room. Very quietly and with small, unnoticeable movements, L closed the Death Note and slipped it into the first drawer of his desk.

There was a soft knock at the door. "L?" Watari's voice called a moment later. "L, are you awake?"

Was he awake? What a silly question. Of coursehe was awake. "I am," he called back. "You may enter, Watari."

The door creaked open, and for just a moment, the room flooded with light. The next moment that light was gone, and L was cast back into the darkness, illuminated only by the glow of his computer monitor, which he immediately clicked off to avoid Watari figuring out what he was looking at.

The slight rustle of movement met L's ears, and the next moment Watari was placing a cup of tea beside him, accompanied by a plate of scones. "L," he greeted calmly. "Are you well?"

"Of course I am," he responded thoughtlessly. "Is there a reason for your inquiry?"

Watari looked at him as if he were crazy, which just irritated him all the further. "You've been in here for four days without rest, L. I don't think you've even turned on the lights, let alone left for a decent meal."

L hummed noncommittally.

"You know…" the inventor began, and L tensed, fearing the worst of what he was about to say. "It's been just about two weeks since Kou's entire gang was mysteriously wiped out. They all died of heart attacks, and all at the same time. Right after Kou died of one himself. Don't you think that's a bit strange?"

L curled his toes around the edge of his chair, careful to keep his expression neutral. "There is such a thing as a coincidence, Watari. I think nothing of it."

"Nothing at all? You don't think it's even the slightest bit strange that they all died at once?"

"No, I do not."

Watari frowned, and L could tell that he didn't believe him. "In any case, it _has_ been two weeks since the entire organization was wiped out and burned to the ground."

Ah…that's right. L had almost forgotten that as a part of his little test, he'd written that one of the members of Kou's gang would burn the main building that housed the organization to the ground. And as it was written, so had it happened. The Tenth Street Warehouse had been burned to the ground. L felt little remorse for the whole state of affairs. "Your point?"

"You haven't asked for a single new case."

Of course. Once again, an oversight that L had left unresolved. In his obsession—no, that was a harsh word…more like _interest_ in the notebook, he'd failed to request even a single new case from his caretaker. "Perhaps I am taking a break."

"That's absurd and you know it."

And so it was. L had been working as a detective since he turned five, and he hadn't taken a single day off since that very first case, let alone two weeks. "You're correct, of course," he murmured. "I have not been taking a break. Rest assured, Watari, I have been working on something. Just because I haven't requested any new cases of you doesn't mean that I haven't been working at all. Must I depend upon you for all of my exploits?"

The inventor seemed taken aback by L's sharp words. But still, his politeness reigned. "No, L, I suppose you don't. It merely seemed strange, thus the question of whether or not you were working on anything."

"I see. Is that all you came here to ask me?" L's fingers were already twitching, eager to touch the Death Note again, even if it was just through the protective gloves he'd taken to wearing whenever he handled the thing. If he could just get Watari out of the room…

"I suppose that is all. Is there nothing that you wish of me?"

L opened his mouth, about to shoo the inventor from the room—but then he paused, and the gears of his brain began spinning even faster than usual. _One week…K will begin killing in one week…and until then, I have time to decide upon my course of action. I cannot remain uninvolved, surely…so I must come to some sort of decision within the week. In any case, I will need to know K's identity…and in order to do that…_ L looked up at Watari through eyes narrowed in thought. "I want you to keep track of all flights leaving from America to Japan."

" _All_ of them?" Watari echoed, sounding vaguely surprised.

"Yes, all of them. Record the names of the passengers, time of departure, location, and any other information you find important."

He still looked surprised. But still, Watari responded, "Yes, L. I will do as you ask. Is that all?"

Once again, L paused. And while it was true that he had yet to decide upon a firm course of action, he felt quite confident in doing what he did next. "One last thing," he murmured. He turned his chair back around so its back was to Watari, fingers brushing across the handle of the drawer that concealed the Death Note. "Prepare passage to Japan."

"Japan, sir?"

"Yes, Watari. Something is about to happen in Japan, and I intend to be there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal. I will make the necessary arrangements. When do you wish to leave?"

"Tomorrow evening," L said with certainty.

"And should I inform the NPA of your impending arrival?"

"No…I intend to keep my involvement quiet in this matter."

"Am I to know what this matter is?"

"Not this time. This is a matter that only I can be involved in, unfortunately."

Just as intended, Watari picked up on L's subtle dismissal. "Very well then, sir. I will do as you say." He turned without another word and exited the room, briefly flooding the room with painful light.

The Death Note was back on L's desk before the door had a chance to close completely. He felt a concerning urge to use the thing, no matter how much he told himself that he had no use for it at the current moment in time. There was nothing he could do with it to make his path easier, nothing he _should_ use it for. But still, he felt the urge. And so, with the mentality of a child doing something he knew he shouldn't, L awakened his laptop with a touch of a button, bringing it to life. There, illuminated on the screen, was the name and face of the man he'd killed prior to Watari's interruption. But of course, L had no use for it now—and so he clicked the arrow near the edge of the screen. The name and face of the previous criminal vanished, and another appeared. According to the tiny number up in the right-hand corner of the page, this was the fourteenth case L had ever solved. This one was only concerning a smalltime criminal, though—a criminal who hadn't received the death penalty—and so L clicked the arrow again, bringing up the fifteenth case. Ah, this was good— _this_ criminal had been sentenced to death, and just like so many of the others, he'd avoided it. These were the kind of men that L was exterminating.

L studied the man's face. He read the name. Then, in a few short seconds, he wrote that name in the notebook without a second thought. He counted to forty. Then he clicked the arrow again, bringing up the sixteenth case, but _that_ criminal hadn't been sentenced to death—and so he clicked it again, and again, until he eventually came to the twenty-first case and found another criminal who had escaped death. Once again, the pen was pressed to paper, and L counted to forty. His mouse went back to the arrow. His pen went back to the paper. The process repeated, as it had been repeating for many days. Of course, it hadn't been this easy in the beginning. Some small part of L had resisted the use of the Death Note. Even now, he knew it wasn't right _—_ but by doing this, he was eliminating those criminals that had managed to manipulate the system, sparing themselves the death penalty they'd earned. He was _cleansing_ the world.

L felt a sudden surge of panic, and the pen clattered from his fingertips. He recoiled as if he'd been struck, twining his fingers through his hair and yanking furiously. _No, no! I can't think that! I…I sound too much like K! I can't think that what I'm doing is righteous, or holy, or that I'm on a mission from god, because I'm_ not! _This is just me…just me, carrying out the punishment determined by the law. I haven't killed anyone who hasn't already been sentenced to death, so technically I'm not the one judging them…and so long as it stays that way, I'm not like K. Not entirely, at least. I don't think I'm a god. I don't want to purify this world with the notebook. I just want to use it for good rather than evil. I want to put things right. I want to use the notebook the right way, rather than abusing its power like a maddened child. And I can do it, if I just stop myself from thinking like K did. If I can stop myself from falling into that deadly cycle, from calling myself a god_ … _then I can do what he could not. And perhaps…_

L's eyes widened slightly at the thought that was now coursing through his entire being. K…he was obviously very intelligent. He'd obviously meant well, even if it was only in the beginning. He obviously had a very strong sense of judgment. _A genius with a strong sense of justice who means well…he sounds like me. And he acted like me, too—or at least, he very clearly did what I would have done in those limited circumstances. We are very alike. And if we're alike, and if I can get to him and take him under my wing…_

No, no—this would lead nowhere beneficial, L knew. K was very obviously a monster, no matter how intelligent and well-meaning he acted. He was a criminal, and L hunted criminals down. He'd have to do the same to K.

Unless…

_No! No unless! He's a criminal._

_Except, he's not a criminal yet, is he? He hasn't done anything. If you got to him first…if you were there for him when he came into possession of the notebook, and if you could teach him how to use it while still following the outline laid down by the justice system…_

L had to admit, he liked the sound of that. If he got to K first, then he could instigate himself as the leader of the two, as the one that already knew the secrets of the weapon bestowed upon his disciple. He would be there to guide K's sense of justice in the right direction, to teach him that his weapon should only be used on people who had already been condemned by the justice system, that way he wouldn't be taking on the role of avenging angel.

Hmm…avenging angel…L liked that.

But still, L had to remember that K was a monster. Or at least, he had the potential to _become_ one. According to the notebook, he was the reason that L died _._

…Which brought him to the more troubling concept of his death. He'd have to find some way to avoid it, obviously—preferably by altering the story so that K never got the chance to harm him. In that regard, L thought that he'd already done quite a good job. After all, he'd already changed the notebook's tale just by learning of the Death Note before he was supposed to. Then, of course he'd altered the timeline by _using_ the thing…and if he went to Japan ahead of schedule and began searching for K, then that would be altering fate's design even further. There was no telling how he might have already changed the course of destiny, if such a thing really did exist. Perhaps he was already saved, and following the path he'd set himself on would lead to his salvation rather than his demise. Or perhaps his actions had only sealed his fate. Either way, ripples were already beginning to spread through the fabric of time. L was sure of it. And that meant, whether he liked it or not, that he had to be careful. If he altered the story too far, then it was entirely possible that things would spin out of control, and he would be thrown into the dark. If he did nothing and let fate run its course, then he would die. But if he could find some sort of medium, a way to balance the scales of good and evil, then he could not only get out with his own life, but he could keep the notebook and use it the _right_ way in the process. He wouldn't be a god, nor would he be anything more than human. He'd still be mortal, he'd still have his integrity—but he would still be able to work towards the elimination of crime. But _not,_ he knew, in the way K had.

It was a good plan. Or at least, it _sounded_ good. And in either case, it all began with a single step—passage to Japan. More specifically, the Kanto region, where K was sure to reside. He'd have a week to act before the killings started. One week…and then the game would be on.

†††

It had taken exactly one week for the notebook to crack Light's resolve.

He'd promised himself, though the words that constituted that promise were shaky at best, that he wouldn't use the notebook. It was a prank, he told himself. Nothing to be concerned about. He shouldn't use it; he should just trash it and ignore it completely.

But he hadn't trashed it. And every night, when he returned home from school, he found himself placing the thing on his desk and studying it with a critical eye. It was a very intricate prank. But still, it was just a prank.

And that _story_ …ridiculous.

When Light had first studied the notebook in the café, he'd been stunned, and not just because of the rules inscribed upon the inside of the front cover. No…the thing that had brought him to his knees (figuratively, of course, for Light Yagami did not _kneel)_ was the first half of the notebook, which was covered entirely in dark black ink. At first, Light had thought that someone writing with some sort of quill had tipped their inkpot over a large chunk of pages, or at the very least managed to leave a leaky pen tucked inside the notebook. But when he'd taken a closer look, he'd realized that no, the pages weren't stained—rather, they were entirely covered in miniscule writing, the letters so small and crammed together that they were barely distinguishable. He'd frowned then, leaning over the thing, squinting in an attempt to read the words.

_November 5, 2004: Rem is punished with death for breaking one of the rules of the shinigami._

That was the first line in the notebook. The first time he'd read it, Light had felt that it was but a mere fragment of a bigger picture—or, in other words, that he was missing something important. And perhaps, he thought, he was correct. After all, the chunk of pages that were so thoroughly coated in ink were not attached to the notebook in any way, shape, or form. They were loose, as if someone had wrenched them from a different notebook and crammed them into the one that Light was currently holding. If that were indeed the case, then the lack of introduction would make sense. It would mean that someone had simply removed one half of the story and left it with him rather than its original owner.

After reading that initial line, Light had felt more than skeptical. But rather than turning away, he used that skepticism as fuel, determined to read more to either debunk the story entirely or to prove it correct. The former, he'd thought at the time, was far more likely. As he began to read the first few pages, he'd realized swiftly that he was in for a long reading session—and so he'd ordered a cup of coffee (black, no sugar) and settled down for the remainder of the school day, not stopping until he'd worked his way through over half the story. After that, he swiftly packed up his things and headed home, the notebook tucked securely into his bag. Upon returning home, he went through the same old routine—say hello to his mother, show her the results of whatever test he'd been forced to slog through that day (this time the nationwide exam results), head up to his room and study. But this time, instead of studying, he'd removed the Death Note and placed it calmly on the table. Then he'd thrown himself back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. At the time, his head had been racing with thoughts of ridicule for the notebook and its story.

_How foolish,_ he'd thought. _Who would believe this crap?_

And then, an hour after he'd thought it, he sat up and seated himself at his desk. He'd continued to read against his better judgment, but he hadn't gotten very far before he was forced to stop in order to get to cram school on time. Of course, he could have easily skipped it if he so wished, but he was _Light Yagami—_ and skipping two classes in one day was unheard of. So he tucked the notebook away in the top drawer of his desk, headed off to school, and by the time he returned he was too tired to read any further. Or at least, too uncaring. But the next day was a different story. As was the next, and the next. Over seven days, he slowly worked his way through the notebook's tale. Despite his harbored disbelief of the events depicted, he found himself the most interested in something he'd been in a long time. K…he was _brilliant._ His ideas, his methods…they shone with intelligence, the likes of which Light found almost godly. He was a genius, and Light admired him—even after he made such foolish mistakes against N. Indeed, it was true that his intelligence had failed him in the end, but still…Light harbored unusually strong feelings of adoration for the fictitious man's mind.

However…that adoration only carried so far.

Light believed K to be of the highest intelligence, even if N had beaten him out in the end. But K's _methods…_

He shook his head at the thought.

K's methods were flawed _._ It was plain to see for Light, who so desperately wished for a world with only the highest standards of justice. From what he could tell from the information given, K had at one point wished to rid the world of evil. But he'd spiraled, it seemed, most likely due to a major event that had occurred just before the start of Light's half of the story. He'd lost whatever it was that drove him towards justice, and in the end, he'd lost himself to the thrall of the notebook. It was tragic, seeing someone with such good intentions being possessed by the demon in the notebook. K had changed. Light wasn't quite sure what had caused that change, but in any case, the change _had_ happened—and as a result, K had earned himself the end of a common criminal.

_January 28, 2010: K is killed._

That was it. There were no details, unlike the rest of the story, which was so detail-packed that it was almost painful to read in some places. It was just that—stark, harsh, and straight to the point. The buildup to K's death was mediocre at best, consisting of only a few clipped events. And when Light finally read those last words, when the story finally came to a close, he felt almost disappointed, as if he'd lost contact with a close friend.

After that, there had been two solid days of moping as he tried to figure out what to do next. He wanted to read more, but there _was_ no more—the only thing left for him to do with the notebook was to testit.

There had been a lot of debate, and even more self-loathing before Light dared to touch pen to paper. He'd chosen a criminal who was holding several children hostage, a smalltime felon who most likely wouldn't be known to anyone outside the Kanto region. He'd gotten as far as writing the first letter of the man's name before he'd stopped.

_No…no, I can't do this. Not him. Who am I to judge this man? I'd be acting like K if I did something like that… Besides, this crime isn't worthy of death. He hasn't killed anyone, and even if what he's doing is obviously wrong, it's not enough to kill him over. If I want to kill him, then I'll just have to wait to see if he's sentenced to death or not. That way, the justice system will still decide his fate—I'll just be the one executing it. But that man is unlikely to be sentenced to death for what he's doing. So…someone else, then? Someone different? But who can I choose? I need to know immediately whether or not the notebook is real._

At this realization Light had sat, rocking back and forth in his chair nervously, staring at the screen. He needed to kill someone whose death he could immediately confirm. But he didn't want to behave like K, killing on a whim because he'd _judged_ his victims as guilty. If he just started offing people, when would he stop? Would petty thievery become fair cause for the death penalty? When he put it like that, it made him sick to his stomach…

It was then, as he sat staring at the TV screen in confusion, that it happened. There was the very clear sound of a gunshot, picked up by the reporters on the scene. The next moment there came a wild array of screaming, and someone was screeching, _he did it! He shot one of the children!_

And Light, shocked to the very core, had jolted up in his seat, wood digging painfully into his back as he straightened. The criminal had done it. He'd killed a child— _he'd earned death._ But no, no! He hadn't been sentenced, no one had convicted him!

And then— _we're just getting word that the police have been authorized to use deadly force._

It was just as good as a death sentence. Or at least, it was all the incentive Light needed to press pen to paper and end the criminal's life. Forty seconds later, the man was dead—and Light was left in shock, completely stunned that the notebook had worked, and panicking over the possibility that if the notebook was real, then the _story_ could be real—and if K suddenly figured out that someone besides himself had the Death Note, then what would he do to him?

Light should have stopped there. He _knew_ that he should—but he had to test it one more time, just to be sure. That led him to a convenience store, where he might witness the crime about to be committed with his own eyes. Admittedly, this one was harder to justify than the last. The man was not committing a crime worthy of the death penalty, and to kill him would be to uproot Light's morals. In the long run, he told himself, he should only kill those who had already been sentenced, or those who were _going_ to be sentenced without a doubt—but just this once, he decided, he would break his own rules—and so he killed the man, and watched as he was struck by a passing truck, leaving him with a failing heart.

He'd thrown up after that. He'd dragged himself into an alleyway, completely numb to those around him, and emptied his stomach relentlessly onto the cobbled ground. After that, he'd swiftly sworn of killing anyone who didn't deserve it. It was a terrible thing, he now knew, to kill. But it was worth it in the long run, was it not? Those two criminals he'd killed…no, _murdered…_ they were off the streets, and they could never hurt anyone ever again. It was almost enough to convince him to start killing _all_ criminals, just as K had done, to make the world a cleaner place. But no—Light was no fool. He knew, just from reading the results of K's actions, that he had been a fool, despite his level of intelligence. Using the Death Note to murder all criminals was insane. Again, Light was drawn back to the fact that under K's reign, petty theft was the same as first-degree murder. They had the same penalty—death.

And so it was that there, hunched over in the alleyway, that Light Yagami swore to himself to _never_ stoop to K's level. He would kill, yes—but only those who had already been sentenced, or those who were doubtlessly facing the death penalty. He could not be the world's avenging angel, nor could he act as its god. But he could help that avenging angel, and aid that god. He could be an enforcer, mortal though he was. Perhaps he could stop K from committing his horrible crimes.

Yes…that was good. It was enough to stop Light from curling up into a huddle of depression and never showing his face in public again for fear of being called out on what he'd done.

And so Light Yagami fulfilled his promise. He began to kill. He killed those sentenced to death but awaiting the actual penalty. He killed those awaiting sentencing. He killed anyone and everyone who had committed a crime that fit the bill. And despite his initial reluctance, he was swift to fill several pages. In but a mere few days, he'd murdered dozens, no, _hundreds_ of criminals. But it was okay…he was not like K…he was not killing them all. Only the ones who deserved it.

He fell into a bit of a rhythm after discovering his newfound aptitude for killing. And so when Ryuk showed up, it was a bit of a shock.

He was sitting at his desk when it happened.

"Well, well, well," came a cackling voice. "It looks like you've taken quite a liking to it!"

Light wasn't surprised. Not really. He supposed that he should have screamed, maybe fallen out of his seat—but he was in the midst of killing criminals, so he didn't have timeto freak out over the appearance of the shinigami. "I'm working, shinigami. What do you want?"

"Well," the shinigami cackled, "it's been a week since you've picked up the notebook, so I thought I'd check in. The name's Ryuk."

"Light Yagami," was the response. "But according the to the rules of the notebook, all shinigami have eyes that allow them to see the names and lifespans of humans, so you already knew that."

The shinigami cocked his head to one side. "All business, huh?"

Light just hummed in response, wondering if the shinigami was going to leave, or if he was going to insist upon continuing the dreadfully dull conversation they were engaged in.

Clearly, the answer was the latter. "So, you seem to like the notebook. Tell me, whose names are you writing in it? I've never seen so many written all at once like that."

Light sighed, setting down his pen, and spun to face the monster. It seemed that his task would have to be delayed. "I don't have time to speak to you at length about my intentions. Suffice to say that I am cleansing the world in the way it was meant to be cleansed rather than in a slurry of blood and gore." And then, seeing Ryuk's appalled expression, he clarified, "I'm killing criminals. I'm going to make the world a better place, but notin the way K went about it. I'm better than him."

"K?" Ryuk echoed.

Light raised a brow. Was it possible that this shinigami wasn't the author of the story in the notebook? He'd just assumed, seeing as it was obviously his notebook that he was the possessor of, that he would have been the one to write in it. "You mean you don't know?"

"Huh? Know what?"

"…Interesting. So you really don't know."

"Know what?" he repeated.

Light held up the notebook. "There's a story here. It's handwritten, and this is obviously your notebook, so I just assumed that you were the one who—"

A sharp laugh caught him off guard. "Oh, no! That wasn't me. That story you're talking about came from a different notebook, one that I'm trying to find."

"Is that so?"

There was a short period of silence.

"So?" Ryuk asked at last.

Light frowned. "So…what?"

"Aren't you going to start asking me questions? You know, the normal questions about the purpose of the Death Note, and who I am, and whether or not I've come to take your soul?"

Light blinked, surprised. "Well, no. I already know what I need to know about the notebook, I know that you're a shinigami, and I know that if you intended to take my soul, you would have done it already. No…if I had to guess, I'd say that you're just here to watch. That's what the story made it sound like, at least. It said that there was one shinigami in particular who was completely content with sitting back and watching the mess he'd helped create. He had no interest in doing anything to hurt the owner of the notebook. I'm assuming that's you."

"Wait, you mean I'm in the story?"

"Well, yes. I assumed that you knew, seeing as you were presumably the owner of this notebook before I came into contact with it."

There was an awkwardly long pause as the shinigami just stared, and Light felt increasingly uncomfortable. What was this creature thinking? Why was he just staring at him?

Then there was a sudden flurry of movement, and the next heartbeat Light was forced to step back as Ryuk leaned down to stare him in the eye. The period of silence endured. And then, suddenly, the shinigami let out a noise that could only be interpreted as a giggle. Then that giggle turned into a full blown laugh, which turned into a roar of laughter.

"What…?" Light asked aloud, stunned into near-silence by the shinigami's performance. "What are you—?"

The shinigami barely managed to quell his laughing fit in order to say, "I have to admit, kid, you're not what I expected. I mean, when I dropped my notebook here, I was trying to find someone with at least _partial_ intelligence and connections to the police, but I never imagined that you'd use the notebook like _this._ "

_Partial intelligence? Connections to the police?_ Light's mind began to race as he wondered just what the creature was babbling on about. Had he been _chosen_ by this thing?

"I mean," Ryuk went on, completely unaware of Light's confusion, "several Death Notes have fallen into this world over past years, but I've never seen someone write so many names so fast! You must have quite the motivation!"

"Well, yes," Light said, feeling a prickle of pride at the mention of his concrete motivation. "I don't know if you've noticed this, Ryuk, but this world houses a remarkable amount of criminals, many of which have committed crimes worthy of the death penalty. However, most of those criminals are awaiting execution, or have gotten themselves into a situation where said execution will never be carried out. As long as I have this notebook, I can do what the justice system failed to achieve. I can kill them, and I can grant them the justice they have escaped. I can purify the world in a good way, in the _right_ way…not like K."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuk said in an indifferent tone, as if he'd made his previous statement with complete disinterest in the potential response. He floated backwards slightly, and his reddish orange eyes gleamed in the dull light of Light's computer screen. He appeared to be waiting for something, thought Light hadn't the slightest idea what.

Seeing that the shinigami wasn't about to say anything else quite yet, Light cleared his throat (gracefully, of course) and asked smoothly, "So, you said that you _chose_ me?"

"Huh? No, I didn't say that."

Light narrowed his eyes. "You said that you were looking for someone with intelligence who was connected to the police. That's as good as saying you chose me."

"Oh, I guess you're right," the creature realized, an utterly stupefied look on his face. "Then yeah, I guess I did choose you."

"Then why? Why me? What made you decide to imbue me with this power?"

The shinigami cackled. "Told ya you'd be curious." He drifted closer, though he didn't get quite as close as he'd come the first time. "You wanna know the truth?"

Light raised his chin slightly in affirmation, not bothering to offer a verbal response.

Ryuk didn't seem to need one. "Well," he rasped in that low tone that Light was beginning to recognize as his usual voice, "the truth is, I'm in a bit of trouble."

Ah, so _that's_ what this was. The shinigami had some debt he had to pay, or owed someone a favor, and he'd come to Light to ask for help. _Well,_ Light thought, feeling a surge of righteous arrogance sweep through him, _he came to the right place. If there's anyone who can help him, it's me. Although, I do question the nature of the favor he'll no doubt ask of me, especially seeing as one of the stipulations was my connection to the police…will he ask me to do something illegal? No, I'd never do it!_

"You see," he went on, "I was sent by my boss to pick up a Death Note holding some kind of story written inside. I was just about to grab the thing when another shinigami dropped it on a human, and I was unable to recover it. Well…I guess I _did_ get part of it, which is that chunk of pages shoved into your notebook. But the point is, I didn't get allof it, and I can't find the new owner. When I told the boss, he got really upset and ordered me to go back and choose a human to give my notebook to that would be capable of tracking down the other Death Note owner."

And just like that, it all made sense. "So I'm to be a shinigami's errand boy?" he bit out, though he doubted his new companion would be able to hear and understand the nuance of anger flowing through his composed voice.

Sure enough, the response was, "Yeah! Think of it like that!"

Light glared. He didn't care what this shinigami said, he was _not_ going to be someone's plaything. He'd use the notebook the way _he_ wanted to use it, not the way some halfwit shinigami demanded of him. "I will not be ordered around," he said shortly, though the moment he said it, he wondered if it had been a good idea to deny a god of death. Would he kill him if he refused to aid him?

There was another fit of laughter. "I like your spirit, kid, but…" He leaned in once again, and though there was still a clownish smile on his face, the light from the computer monitor cast him in a horrifying blue glow. "I don't think you understand. You see, if you don't act like a cooperative little human, then I can't get the notebook I'm looking for back. So I'd just have to find another human to help me."

Light immediately felt a pang of irritation. He'd just gotten his new weapon, and it would be a shame to let Ryuk take it from him so soon. Unfortunately, it seemed like if he wanted to keep the notebook, he'd have to go along with the shinigami for the time being.

Ryuk went on, "And if I have to find another human, then that means I'll have to take the notebook away from you."

Ah. Just as he'd thought.

"And to do _that,_ I'd have to kill you."

Light's head jerked up to face the shinigami against his will. So that was it, then? He was bargaining with not just ownership of the notebook, but with his life? Ryuk hadn't left him much of a choice. "So, you're threatening my life?" he questioned, feeling the need to voice what he already knew.

"Yup. You got it."

Light stared, beginning to question his sanity as the shinigami floated over to his bedside table, where Sachiko had delivered a small basket of fresh apples a few hours earlier. He picked one up, scrutinizing it through squinted eyes as Light said, "You haven't left me much of a choice in the matter. What is it that you would have me do?"

Ryuk didn't answer. Instead, he settled for shoving a whole apple into his mouth and crunching noisily, exclaiming, "Hey, these are way better than the apples in the shinigami realm!"

Was this thing _insane?_ Despite his social grace, he found it difficult to stop his incessant staring at the shinigami, who was reaching for another apple, then another, and another, until Light felt the sudden need to offer him a shovel, for it would surely be more efficient for his purpose than his hands. "Did you hear me?" he demanded indignantly, staring with morbid fascination.

"Huh?" The shinigami raised his head, flecks of apple clinging to his blackened flesh. "Oh, yeah—I already told you, I just need you to track down the other owner of the Death Note."

"Yes, you _said_ that already—but what other information do you have? Where do you think it is? Where was it when you last saw it? Who is the human who last had it?"

"Uh…" Ryuk trailed off somewhat nervously. "Well, I don't exactly know where it is. I was chasing that rogue shinigami down in Japan, though, so I suppose it could be here."

And just like that, Light felt a headache forming. Was he supposed to track this guy down with absolutely no information whatsoever? Well, it couldn't be _that_ much of a problem—after all, it was extremely unlikely that the notebook was in the hands of someone who had the capacity to use it with even a modicum of intelligence. It was probably someone of average intelligence who would be easy to track down due to foolish mistakes. But still, he needed all the information he could glean from this half-witted shinigami. And so he said, "Ryuk, tell me everything."

The shinigami didn't even pause. "The rogue shinigami I was chasing dropped his notebook on a criminal named Kou Hashimoto who was fleeing the police somewhere in Japan. I don't know exactly where it was, but I'm certain it was in Japan. Anyways, the guy was cornered by the police in an alleyway when he took ownership of the notebook. He saw the other shinigami and freaked out. Then this masked guy just walked up to him and arrested him! He took the notebook too. I wanted to stick around and see what else happened, but I had to leave for the shinigami realm before I could. Boss's orders."

"Your boss pulled you out of the mission when you were so close to succeeding?"

"Yeah, he's funny that way."

"Hmm…" Light ran a hand thoughtfully through his hair. "How long ago was this?"

"The boss said that the whole thing happened about four weeks ago in human time."

"I see." Light turned his chair back to his computer, pulling up a new window. "So, then—four weeks ago, a criminal named Kou Hashimoto was arrested somewhere in Japan. That shouldn't be that hard to find, not so long as I have at least the minimum level of skill in computer hacking. I'll just access the NPA's database and find out just where this criminal is being held."

"No," came the immediate response. "He's dead; he's not the owner anymore. That's how I lost the notebook in the first place—if he was still the owner, then I could locate him from the portal to the human world and kill him, but when I tried I couldn't find him. That means he's dead, and the notebook has gone to someone else. That's why I need your help. As long as I don't know the new owner's name, I can't kill him and take the notebook. Not to mention the fact that I'm not allowed to kill Death Note owners unless I've given my own notebook to a human."

"So you're telling me that we have no leads other than Kou Hashimoto, who is no longer alive to question."

"Uh…yeah. Sorry."

"You're not sorry in the least," Light snapped. "Do you have any idea how deeply this will interfere with my plans to rid the world of all criminals sentenced with death? I'm supposed to be working to make this world a better place, not running off after some civilian who got his hands on a Death Note!"

The shinigami shrugged, and Light noticed with disgust that his smile seemed to be permanently stuck on his face. "That's kind of what _you_ are, though, isn't it?"

Light growled, but offered no response. The shinigami was right.

"Just find the owner and kill him. It's not that hard."

"Oh, yes, it won't be difficult at _all_. Sans, of course, the fact that _I have no leads."_

"You know where the notebook is," Ryuk offered.

"I know where it was _two weeks ago,_ you dolt! I know that it used to be in Japan. I also know who _used_ to have it, which would have been a lead if not for the fact that he's _dead!_ I don't' see how you expect me to do this with so little information. You've given me an impossible task!"

"Well, if you're not smart enough—"

" _What_ did you say?"

The shinigami's grin widened. "Like I said, if you're not smart enough, I can just go find someone else. I'm sure it won't be too hard to find someone just like you."

"It would be incredibly difficult!" Light snapped immediately. "I am the highest ranked student in all of Japan! I have the connections to the police you said you were looking for! I am the only one!"

"Yeah, yeah, but if you don't think you can handle it…" the shinigami trailed off, this time clearly waiting for a reaction.

Light gave him one. "Don't you dare insult my intelligence, shinigami! I'll do it! I'll track the bastard down and kill him, understand?"

"Ooh," the shinigami cackled, "even if he's not a convicted criminal?"

"Stop arguing against yourself," Light responded in a hiss. "If you want me to do this, then don't give me reasons that I shouldn't!" But still…he had a point. What if the owner wasn't a criminal? It probably wasn't a criminal, in all honesty. It was most likely some random civilian who didn't know what they'd gotten their hands on. He couldn't just kill someone innocent. So, then… "Ryuk," he questioned slowly, "do I have to be the one to kill them?"

"Whyd'ya ask that?"

"If the owner doesn't happen to be a criminal, then I would prefer that someone else kill them."

The shinigami rolled his eyes. "Fine, then—if you track the guy down, I'll kill him and be done with it."

"And will you kill _me?"_

His eyes glimmered in the dull light. "Maybe, maybe not. It all depends."

And Light, of course, was _very_ interested in knowing just what it depended on—but he knew that this shinigami would never give him an answer. He was far too elusive for that. "Very well, then. I suppose I'll start by looking into Kou Hashimoto."

The shinigami shrugged in response. He floated over to the bed and flopped down carelessly.

Light stared for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Tell me, shinigami, are you planning to stay here?"

"Well, yeah. I'm bound to you now; I'm not going anywhere. Sorry, but you're stuck with me."

Light could have groaned. In fact, he _did_ groan—but not loudly enough for Ryuk to hear. It was unbelievable that he was being forced to endure the presence of this shinigami.

_Huh…it's just like K. He was the one who had Ryuk attached to him. How strange. But then again, the events in the notebook don't start until many, many days from now. I suppose it's possible that I succeed in my quest and get rid of Ryuk before then, and he flies off to join K. That is, if the story is true at all. But I have no reason to believe that it isn't. After all, the description of Ryuk is flawless. I knew who he was before he even introduced himself. Any story that could describe a shinigami that well has to have some merit, especially if another shinigami was the one who wrote it. And if this story predicts the future, then wouldn't that explain why Ryuk's boss wanted to get his hands on it so much? Perhaps he wants to know what's going to happen in the human world as much as the humans that live in it._

Light cast Ryuk an uneasy glance over his shoulder. The browser window on his computer was still open, though he hadn't typed anything into it yet, and now it dimmed with inactivity. He jerked his gaze away from the shinigami soon enough, ordering himself to get to work. The sooner he finished his task, the sooner Ryuk would get off his back and return to whatever realm he normally inhabited.

"Oh," came a sudden voice. "I should warn you—I'm pretty sure that there's a third Death Note owner that'll be wandering around, in addition to you and the other guy."

"Another one?" Light echoed, unable to believe his ears. "You're serious? And you didn't think to tell me this until now?"

"I forgot!" the shinigami whined. "There's this other shinigami, Rem, who was heading down to the human world a little bit before me. She's probably going to give her extra notebook to a human, but I'm not sure which one. But in any case, you don't need to worry about the third owner. Just catch the second one and you'll be fine!"

Light pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. What had he done to deserve this? Well, he supposed that he _had_ killed several dozen people in the past few days—but they were all evil, so he shouldn't be punished for it! "Ryuk," he groaned, "do you have any idea how complicated you just made things?"

"Huh? Did I?"

Light shook his head, turning his attention back to the blackened computer screen. _This is infuriating. I was planning to make a few charts concerning heart attacks affecting criminals in order to chart the other notebook owner's victims, but now that won't mean anything! I won't know which owner is killing which criminals! And it's not like the locations of the murdered criminals is going to be easy to interpret—after all, Death Note owners don't need to be in the same place as the people they kill! Damn it, how am I going to do this?_

"Hey!" Ryuk called, shooting up from the position he occupied on Light's bed. "Got any more apples?"

Light stared. Then he stared some more. Then, finally, he leaned forward and winced as his forehead collided painfully with his desk. This…was going to be a long couple of weeks.


	6. The Page of Pentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited for this chapter, because L and Light are about to meet for the first time! I just love the way they meet; their initial conversation is one of my favorite scenes in the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

As fate would have it, L touched down in Japan at the same exact moment the first murder was committed with a notebook not in his possession. He didn't know it had happened, of course, for how could he be expected to sense the death of a criminal? But what he _could_ sense, as soon he set foot on the sunbaked asphalt, was that something was terribly, irrefutably wrong. He felt strange, almost as if he were infringing on another predator's territory—and said predator was going to killhim for it, undoubtedly through use of claws and fangs and whatever else he could use to inflict damage.

L knew, of course, that this was the day when K's first victim would be claimed. It was supposed to be someone holding up an elementary school, threatening to end the lives of his hostages. And now, L knew, as he looked at the clock, it was too late to stop him—for seeing as 5:56 had just passed, K had no doubt just claimed his first victim, officially beginning his reign of terror. Next, the following day, he would murder a man who was attempting to sexually assault a young woman. The man would run into traffic in an attempt to chase his victim, and he himself would become a victim. This was how L would attempt to locate K. After he found and captured him, he'd decide what to do. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to with the murderer just yet. He was somewhat torn between killing him with the Death Note for his crimes or attempting to teach him how to use the notebook correctly and forcing him to work for justice rather than his own selfish desires. Or, L mused, he could simply lock him in a cell and refuse to let him go. He'd rot away, and in that regard he would pay dearly for his crimes.

"What a shame. What a hideous waste of human life."

L looked up absent mindedly, and his eyes fell upon Watari, who was staring at the television screen sadly. On the screen was the report of K's first murder—not that anyone knew that's what it was just yet. The criminal had, just as the notebook predicted, attempted to hold several students hostage in an elementary school. And also as the notebook predicted, he'd been killed—but not until he'd shot and killed one of the children. The child's death was the only detail not predicted in the notebook. The rest was there, right down to the exact second of death. "Yes," L responded belatedly, realizing that Watari was awaiting a response. "It is quite a waste. It is fortunate that the criminal was killed before he had the chance to murder anyone else."

"Killed?" Watari echoed. "Don't you mean that he _died,_ L? No one killedhim, it was just a heart attack."

"One of many as of late," L responded in a low murmur. He shifted, and the moment he moved, the spell was broken—his surroundings assaulted him, and he remembered that rather than resting peacefully in the jet, or lounging in his bedroom in Wammy's House, he was sitting in an uncomfortable chair at a rickety desk in a hotel room in the Kanto region of Japan. He barely remembered the trip to the hotel—he'd been too engrossed with the way K had murdered the criminal. And _that_ just brought L back to the train of thought that just kept looping, and looping, and looping around in his mind.

_I believe that K is evil because he murders criminals that he has judged as unworthy of life. He has made it so that petty theft and murder receive the same punishment—death._

_K's first murder has already occurred. He murdered a criminal who was responsible for the slaughter of an innocent child._

_That criminal would have received the death sentence had he lived._

_K murdered someone who would have been executed._

_K did…exactly what I would have done._

_Am…am I like K? I know that I am not him, for it was not I that killed the criminal, but still…do we share similar motivation?_

L had been agonizing over these thoughts for what felt like forever—forever being only the few hours it took to get from the airport to the hotel. In the end, it all boiled down to the same question—why was L trying to track K down if he was doing the same thing he was? To attempt to stop him from murdering criminals already sentenced with death would be foolish, seeing as L would be doing the same thing. It was contradictory. It was paradoxical. But above all, it was _pointless._

But, as L reminded himself time and time again, just because K had made the right decision one time didn't mean that he would make that decision _every_ time—it was just a coincidence that he'd killed someone already sentenced to death, and nothing more. After all, the notebook's tale was quite clear—K was intent upon ridding the world of all criminal activity, regardless of the severity of the crime. The fact that his first victim was exactly the kind of man L would have gone after was a coincidence, as he'd already thought countless times. But still…that flicker of doubt remained.

Watari shifted suddenly, turning and heading for the kitchenette attached to the hotel room, no doubt to make a pot of tea. L watched him go, and the moment he was out of sight, his hands darted to the Death Note. He was wearing gloves, of course, as he'd taken to doing the instant Kou was killed. He refused to maintain any skin to notebook contact. And as a result, he had yet to touch the notebook directly—at least, not after Kou's death. Still, it was disturbingly comforting to lay hands on the Death Note. He had to know that it was there, that it wasn't gone, that it was real—and so he pressed his fingertips to the thing. He remembered with startling clarity the words he'd carved into the top of the first blank page where he'd written someone's name for the first time. He'd made a list—a list of rules. Not official rules, but rules for _himself,_ rules that he would refuse to break, for to do so would be compromising his moral standards. He knew that there was no need to write the list, but still—it comforted him, seeing the letters carved out in his own handwriting. Simply by being there, he felt that they formed a protective barrier between himself and the demon K. The list went:

_Only write the names of those who have already been sentenced to death._

For the first few days, that was all the list consisted of—a solitary rule. But then L's horizons had expanded, and he'd added,

_You may kill criminals who are awaiting trial but are sure to be put to death._

_You may kill criminals who are not on trial but would most certainly be deserving of the death sentence if their many crimes were ever tried in a court of law._

Again, he had paused there. But once again, his resolve weakened, and in a few hours he'd already added two more rules.

_You may kill those who you suspect are about to commit a crime worthy of the death sentence._

_You may kill anyone who threatens your own life._

This, L knew, was pushing his authority a bit further than he'd originally intended. He himself had decided that he should let the justice system decide who died and who didn't. But if he saw someone who was obviously about to commit a terrible crime, and he had the power to stop them…

For example, the criminal K had murdered. It was obvious to L, at least, that he was going to murder one of the children. So then, would it not be better to write that criminal's name to save the innocent child? He could save one life by ending another. _But he wouldn't have been sentenced if you'd killed him,_ was L's immediate counterargument. And yes, he knew that this was true—but either way, L knew, the criminal _would_ have been executed. Simply for holding children hostage, and _especially_ for murdering one of said hostages, he would have been sentenced to death. L knew it. K knew it. So why should he wait to kill him, especially if he was certain that he would have been sent to his execution? All L would be doing was cutting a few weeks from his time—and more importantly, he would be saving a child. He would become a murderer one way or another—either by killing the criminal, or allowing the child to die—and so, L reasoned, he would take the more righteous of the two options. From now on, he vowed, he would save the lives of those innocent victims who would suffer the loss of life resulting from criminals' actions. He would strike preemptively, just as K had done in the story of the notebook.

In other words, he would act like K. But not enough to become him. Instead, he would steal all of K's good intentions, while leaving the sadistic, cruel tendencies behind.

Again, L cautioned himself, he was walking a path of blurred lines. It would be easy to slip and fall on the wrong side of those lines. Thus the rules. As long as L didn't let himself stray from them, he knew that he would be able to maintain his moral standards. Just to be sure, he'd gone back and underlined all the rules. Twice.

"L," Watari started, breaking into his thoughts. He was back now, a serving tray held securely in two hands, "is there a particular course of action you wish me to prepare for now that we have entered Japan?" He placed a cup of tea on the desk beside the young detective, followed by a rather large bowl of sugar cubes.

"I know exactly what I'm going to do," L muttered, pinching one of the sugar cubes between two fingers and raising it to the light. And indeed, he did know—he knew everything. He knew that he was supposed to work with six detectives, one of which was presumably a high school student. He knew that he was supposed to construct a large building to use as case headquarters. He knew that he was supposed to come into contact with K at To-Oh College. And so, with this knowledge, L had already set the first gears of his plan in motion. "Watari, I have already commissioned the construction of a large building that will serve as our headquarters in Japan. It is supposed to be completed within the month. Until then, I plan to move from hotel to hotel on three day cycles."

"Very well, sir. But what shall we be doing in Japan? You haven't told me of your intent."

"I am looking for someone. I do not know who I am looking for, or where they may be at this precise moment, but I know that they are in this region of Japan. That is the only reason we are here."

"What should be done to locate this person?"

"I am going to work with the NPA. I believe you have already informed them of our arrival, yes?"

"I have."

"Then I ask you to go to them and call together a meeting of all their detectives. There are five men among them that I wish to identify, and there is one more that I will have to go elsewhere to find. Once I have found the identities of these five men, I will devise some greater method of tracking the subject down."

"This is rather strange, L," Watari pointed out evenly. "You've never been one to play well with others, so to speak. Why do you wish to obtain a team of detectives to do something so mundane as locating a presumed criminal?"

"This criminal may be somewhat difficult to track," L murmured thoughtfully, cramming a handful of sugar cubes into his coffee. "In addition, I have reason to believe that these five detectives in particular will greatly aid me in my attempts to locate the target."

Watari was clearly curious, having definitely guessed that L had ulterior motives, but he said, "Very well. I will contact the NPA at once. Plan to meet with the detectives tomorrow at noon."

"That is all. Leave me now."

The inventor dipped his head slightly before turning, resting the serving tray—still piled with several bowls of sugar cubes, which were to be L's snack over the next several hours—on the bedside table, and exiting the room silently.

L was left alone to his thoughts. According to the notebook, he was supposed to meet with the five members of the task force on December 31, 2003—and he was supposed to come into contact with the sixth member, a recent high school graduate, on January 17, 2004. If he started things early by building the task force headquarters several months ahead of schedule, and if he discovered the identities of the five members of the NPA who made up the task force, then he would already be well ahead of K.

But that wouldn't happen until tomorrow at the earliest. In the meantime, L decided, there were two things that he would do. The first was rather obvious—he would continue to rid the world of those criminals had escaped their fate. The second, on the other hand, was less obvious. L, in an attempt to gather the entire task force before he was supposed to, was going to track down the sixth member. The recent high school graduate. No—he wasn't a graduate yet. As of this moment, L knew, he was still waiting to take the placement exam. So, then…how was he going to track him down?

L hummed thoughtfully, brushing his fingers across the cover of the Death Note, which was still tucked securely beneath his shirt. Well, first he had to know where the sixth member of the task force was going to high school. This would be rather difficult, L knew. Normally he would retrieve the list of those admitted to To-Oh in the recent year and examine it for possible candidates. Then he would approach each one under the guise of someone else and determine whether or not they were the student he was looking for. But unfortunately, seeing as the student in question had not yet been accepted into To-Oh, there was no way for him to check the admittance list. So then, he had to find a plan B. First, he had to obtain a general location. Judging by the story in the Death Note, the student lived in the Kanto region of Japan, and attended a high school there. That gave L the general location he needed. Unfortunately, there were far too many high schools in the Kanto region for him to visit in the time allotted—and it was quite unlikely that he'd come into contact with the student he was looking for. In the time he spent searching, it was likely that K would have already made his move against L and the task force. So L needed an edge. He needed something to narrow down the possibilities.

It went without saying that To-Oh was a very prestigious school that accepted only students of the highest intelligence. So, then—L was looking for someone with high intelligence, high enough to get him into To-Oh. And of course, according to the notebook, this student had connections to the police—the man known as Y in particular. Although obviously L had no way of knowing which member of the task force Y represented. He didn't even know who was _on_ the task force. Of course, he could always wait until he knew the identities of said task force members, then examine each of their families in the search for the sixth member of the task force—but L didn't know if the student was a blood relative of any of the members of the task force, nor did he know how strongly he was connected to any one member. It was far better to do things this way, he figured.

L's fingers clicked across the keys of his keyboard, and a moment later he was staring at a broad list of names. This list, he knew, contained every name of every student in all of Japan. It was standard information, all compiled in a single place by the government and updated at the beginning of every year. With a single click, L filtered the list so only high school students were shown. _Well,_ he thought abysmally, _at least I narrowed it down to a couple hundred thousand._ He clicked again and narrowed it down to high school students in the Kanto region. That brought the number down significantly, much to L's relief. He was brilliant, he was _L—_ but not even he could personally assess more than five hundred thousand students.

_Now, I already deduced that only students of the highest intelligence would be welcomed into To-Oh. So, then, if I rank them in terms of their test scores and grade point averages…_

L ran the names through another filter, and they were immediately categorized by their respective grades in each of their classes—taking into account, of course, whether or not students were taking advanced placement courses. He leaned forward curiously and read the name at the very top of the list, flitting his eyes over the location of that particular student. He would start with the most intelligent student and work down the list, he decided. Then, calmly, he saved the list of names to his desktop for later use. He glanced at the clock. _Hmm…it's already 6:00, so the high schools have already released their students. I could easily look up the location of this student's home, but it would appear a bit strange if someone just showed up on his doorstep with not viable explanation. I'd be better off to wait until a school day and then 'accidentally' run in to him. I can profile him and be out of his sight in a matter of two hours at the most. After that, I can presumably make my way to two or three other students before I have to meet with the prospective members of the task force at twelve—through a computer, of course, though I will inevitably have to show my face eventually. Assuming, of course, that the NPA agrees to hold a meeting and grants me the use of five of its detectives. It's quite likely that they will, of course—but I must take every possibility into account if I wish to change my fate. I wouldn't want to end up dead because I overlooked something as simple as this._

Well, L didn't want to end up dead, _period_ —but he especially didn't want to die because of something like this.

He removed his Death Note from its hiding place and set it on the table in front of him, as he'd become so accustomed to doing as of late. Then he pulled up all records of his previous cases, as was becoming habitual, and continued sifting through them to find criminals who had escaped their fated death. He had nothing else to do—the task force headquarters was being built, the meeting with the NPA was happening the next day, and he would soon begin to search for the sixth task force member.

In other words…he would soon begin to search for the task force member who he suspected of being K.

†††

Unfortunately, the next day didn't go quite as L planned. As Watari explained, the NPA had been unable to compose a meeting at twelve, as instructed—and so instead, they had moved the meeting up to eight in the morning, and as was such, L had been unable to meet with the top ranked student in the Kanto region. Instead, he was stuck addressing brainless detectives, searching for the five of them who were worthy enough to help him in his quest to destroy K. So far, he'd done exactly as he'd planned in order to test them—he'd given each of them a different psychological test and asked them to solve it. Naturally, they were all thoroughly confused. Some of them had even refused to solve their puzzle, deeming it juvenile and pointless, even after L informed them (via computer, of course) that he was testing them to see if they were worthy of helping him solve a case. They'd walked out, and L let them. If they couldn't be bothered to solve a simple puzzle, then he very much doubted that they were the men he was looking for. No, he was _certain_ that they weren't the men he was looking for. The rest of the men, however, had taken to their puzzles with varying levels of enthusiasm. One detective in particular had seemed to squeal for joy, blathering in excitement to the man beside him about how exciting it was to be pulled off all active cases to solve childish puzzles. L immediately looked up his name—Touta Matsuda. He immediately knew that this was, without a doubt, one of the people that was on the task force. He did not _belong_ on the task force by any stretches of the imagination—he was too bubbly, too excitable, too idiotic—but according to the story of the notebook, L had not been the one to choose who ended up on the task force. It was a matter of who had stayed and who had not; and Matsuda definitely had the personality of someone who would have stayed. He was far too sentimental, L knew, and that plentiful sentiment would be what kept him from running away with the rest of the detectives. If L had his way, then he wouldn't invite the airhead back to the investigation team, but according to the notebook, he'd managed to be at least a _little_ useful, so L would tolerate him. He wrote down his name in messy handwriting—not in the Death Note, but on a small notepad that was resting just to the right of it. One down, four to go, sans the highs school student.

The next person to distinguish himself was Soichiro Yagami, the chief of the NPA. L had expected this, and had almost declined to test the chief in the first place in favor of simply calling him into service. But still, he had taken the careful route, and now he was certain that he was correct. The man was a natural leader, and seemed to be the only one capable of keeping Matsuda in check. In addition, it was obvious just from the way that he spoke that he had a very strong sense of justice, not unlike L's. He was just L's kind of employee, and in a matter of moments his name was scribbled down on the notepad. It wasn't a surprise, seeing as L had worked with him before. Now three more were missing from his task force.

Next came Kanzo Mogi. L had barely noticed him at first, seeing as he seated himself in the back of the room and said nothing for the duration of the briefing—yet here he was, standing up well before anyone else and proclaiming in a deep tone that he had completed his puzzle. Said puzzle was brought to Watari, and was then broadcasted to L. Mogi had been asked to solve a rather simple mock case (for L, at least) involving murderer killing in a decipherable pattern. He'd been asked to specify who from a list of suspected future victims would be killed next, when they would be killed, where it would happen, and who would carry out the crime. He'd solved the mock case perfectly, and had even used a more efficient method than was typical for people of his rank. Perhaps, L thought, he had misjudged this man. His name went on the notepad.

The fourth man L identified was named Shuicui Aizawa. He wasn't the second person to solve his mock case, or the third, or even the fourth—rather, he finished the puzzle somewhere in the middle. But what made him truly impressive was the way in which he solved his mock case. All of the other agents (save Mogi) spent a few minutes looking around in confusion, asking each other questions, and generally trying to figure out what was going on. Even once they'd gotten to work, there was the occasional shuffle, small lapses of attention in which they briefly raised their heads and looked around the room nervously. But Aizawa…he was different. He was focused. The instant the mock case was in his hand, he settled down, put pen to paper, and didn't lift his head until he'd completed the case. He'd solved it with a few mistakes, and in twice the amount of time it had taken Mogi, but luckily for Aizawa, L wasn't looking just for the agents who were remarkably swift, but also for those who had remarkable focus and determination. That made Aizawa the perfect candidate. So, then, that brought L's total up to four. There was one more man in the room that was meant to be a member of the task force.

Unfortunately, L did not find that man.

He received the rest of the mock cases within two hours, and he was swift to go over each and every one. But none of them stood out. Most of them were solved incorrectly, and those that had the correct solutions were completely unremarkable. None of the other detectives had come even remotely close to what L wanted. And while he knew that he could find a way to figure out which man was the one he was looking for, quite frankly, he didn't care. This was the exact kind of change he needed to make in order to alter the course of fate. And in either case, if he was unable to immediately identify a qualifying trait in one of the remaining men, he very much doubted that they would have been much help. And so it was that L gave Watari the names of the four detectives he wished to enlist the help of and left him to do the explaining.

And then, L left to find the top ranked student in the Kanto region.

†††

A few hours later, L found himself at the entrance to the Japanese high school that housed the first student he intended to investigate. With any luck, this would also be the _last_ student he had to investigate, and he could swiftly and quietly take him into custody. Of course, it was highly unlikely that this was the student he was looking for, but still—he had to try.

L walked through the gates that functioned as an entrance to the high school. His feet, bare despite Watari's protesting, felt uncomfortably dirty as they struck the pavement. His back, aching after a morning of doing nothing but hunching over his computer—not that this was unusual, of course—remained painfully hunched as he shuffled further into the school. Hmm…there were no students about just yet. Class was still in session. L took the opportunity to look around, his vision unhindered by the students that normally cluttered the walkways. It was a very beautiful school, he noticed. Rather than cramped hallways and stone walls at every turn, the school was relatively open. There were four wings of buildings in the main area, each of them working to surround a large courtyard that housed an abundance of stone tables. The remainder of the courtyard was full of grass that was several days overdue to be cut, and there were several trees that loomed over said grass, casting long shadows. Cobblestone pathways led off in several directions, vanishing into secluded areas. L could only guess that these areas held benches, or perhaps more tables.

L drew his eyes away from the scenery long enough to glance down at the paper in his hands. He'd written himself a note containing the entirety of the suspect's classes, including the times at which each class was supposed to end. According to the schedule, the student—apparently named _Moon_ of all things—would be moving to forth period in approximately five minutes. He would remain in his fourth period class, Calculus, for forty-nine minutes before moving to a thirty-minute lunch. So, then—L needed to be in Moon's forth period in five minutes. He could quietly observe the boy, then depending on what he saw, approach him during his lunch break and start a conversation. It would undoubtedly prove to be quite awkward, but L had no doubt that he could pull it off. Although he didn't spend much time around people, and his social skills were less than adept, he felt confident in his ability to withstand a brief conversation with a high school student.

L glanced at the location of Moon's next class, then headed off in the correct direction. Luckily, it wasn't too far—it was the classroom at the end of the left wing. He reached it just as the bell rang and a flood of students emerged. He kept himself carefully out of the way as they eagerly exited the classroom, chattering excitedly about whatever it was the instructor had been teaching that day. L was almost amazed at the amount of them packed into one school—as he looked around, it almost seemed like a fire hazard to allow so many students to be in one place at the same time.

"Excuse me?"

L looked up, surprised at being addressed.

"Are you the student teacher we were informed about this morning?"

Ah, so this was the teacher of Moon's forth period class. L should have guessed; it wasn't as if this person was high school aged. "Yes," he said, straightening his spine slightly in an attempt to look more formal. Needless to say, it didn't work, and the teacher curled her nose in distaste. "I am the student teacher." Also needless to say, he'd sent an email to the school under the guise of the superintendent informing them that a student teacher would be visiting a few classrooms on campus as a part of his training. It had worked flawlessly.

"Then, can I take it that you are here to observe my class?"

"For now, yes." L felt a light tickle at his ankle, and he immediately used his other foot to assuage the itch. The teacher's expression twisted even further, and L had to hold back a smile at the show of her obvious disgust.

"In that case, then feel free to come in. You may address me as—"

"Mrs. Fujioka," L interrupted rudely. "I know who you are. I did prior research."

"Oh." Her tone was short, clipped, as if she wished that the strange man standing in her doorway would turn around and leave her sight. "I see."

L offered her a purposefully lopsided smile just to spite her, then passed her without a second glance to enter the classroom. He was hardly surprised by what he saw. It wasn't too unlike any other classroom he'd ever been in, sans the classrooms at Wammy's House, of course. Relatively small with dull brown carpet, fluorescent lights, several rows of desks, a wall with a small window, and two large chalkboards stretched across the wall beside the teacher's desk. Compared to the grand appearance of the courtyard, it was rather plain.

Students were beginning to file into the classroom in small groups, each of them moving to their respective seats and continuing their eager conversations without halt. L immediately moved to the back of the classroom, choosing a seat well away from the others and crouching upon it. According to the seating chart he'd examined on the ride to the school, Moon sat right beside the window. L was on the opposite side of the room from said window, and was therefore in the perfect position to observe the subject from afar. With any luck, he wouldn't even have to talk to him.

A few more students filed into the room. And then, just as the bell rang, one of the students seated himself in the desk beside the window.

_Hmm…so this is Moon, is it?_ L's eyes raked down the teen, taking in his appearance. The most striking thing about him was his _hair—_ L felt fairly certain that having amber hair was quite uncommon for a native of Japan. His eyes were the same brown as his hair and utterly common, and as L gazed intently in the direction of said eyes, he found himself undoubtedly certain that this boy was, in fact, something of a genius. Those eyes held an intelligence far beyond his years, an intelligence that was ever so carefully masked beneath the luster of youth. He was dressed quite formally, bearing a red collared shirt and black tie. Although his legs were now concealed beneath a desk, L caught a glimpse of what could only be slacks, and he had no doubt that if he could see them, his shoes would be just as formal as the rest of his attire.

"Class!" the teacher called. "Class, please bring your attention to the front of the room. We have a student teacher observing us today, so I expect you to be on your best behavior."

For a moment, a plethora of eyes were upon him, and L could practically feel the judgment oozing from their pores. He did his best to ignore them, but he just so happened to look up at the exact moment Moon's eyes fell upon him, and he distinctly felt something constrict in his chest. Nervousness? No, it didn't feel quite like that. Perhaps he'd eaten something with an expired ingredient, and his stomach had decided to rebel against him. Whatever it was, it was only exacerbated by the way the corners of Moon's mouth quirked up upon meeting his eyes, as if he were sharing a secret with a good friend. L immediately felt a flicker of unease—what did Moon know? What was he doing? Was he the sixth member of the task force, and consequently, the primary K suspect?

Then the moment was gone, and class started without incident. But L kept his eyes upon Moon. He was fascinated by what he saw. The teen seemed utterly unconcerned with paying attention to the teacher. His notebook was out on his desk and opened in preparation to take notes on the latest lesson, but his attention was elsewhere. His chin leaned gracefully on one hand; his eyes stared sightlessly out the window. He was obviously deep in thought, paying no attention to anyone around him. Despite the teacher's instructions to keep quiet, the other students were still murmuring in small groups, casting curious glances in his direction every now and then.

L continued to watch, and Moon continued to do nothing to either prove or disprove his suspicions. Until finally, the teacher called out, "Now, I'm going to write one of the equations from last night's homework on the board." She did so, and L was vaguely surprised to see that it was quite complicated for high school calculus. "Now, can I get a volunteer to solve it?"

Unsurprisingly, no hands were raised. The teacher eventually sighed, calling out, "Ritsu, would you please solve the equation?"

Ritsu, the student in question, immediately adopted a terrified expression, shaking his head vehemently.

The teacher sighed again. "Chiaki? Can you solve it?"

This student—a rather young-looking boy—visibly shook as he got to his feet and made his way to the board. He grasped a piece of chalk in sweaty fingers, and L could practically hear him gulp as he began writing shakily upon the blackboard. He obviously had no idea what he was doing. After about five minutes of staggering through incorrect mathematics, the teacher called, "Chiaki, that's enough. You can sit down now." The boy, visibly ruffled, practically sprinted back to his seat, sinking down in a rather embarrassed fashion.

"Anyone else?" the teacher asked, beginning to sound exasperated. "Are you going to force me to resort to drastic measures?"

Silence.

The teacher pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. She shot a glance in Moon's direction, who, for the first time since the lesson had began, was looking right at her. She gave a short nod, and Moon was immediately on his feet, walking towards the chalkboard with angelic grace. L had been correct about the lower half of his attire—his slacks were perfectly pressed, his shoes flawlessly shined. As he made his way to the front of the room, his fellow students eyed him with an emotion somewhere between awe and disdain. They were jealous, but it was an impressed sort of jealousy. And judging by the way Moon's nose was slightly upturned, he knew it. He was enjoying this.

_Hmm…he obviously possesses a high level of pride to be parading his intelligence around in front of his classmates like that. But that's not enough to say that he's the K suspect, though it does raise the percentage a few places. But it's still so low, I can hardly say with any certainty that this is the student I'm looking for._

Moon had reached the chalkboard. He raised a piece of chalk to the equation, pausing briefly to erase Chiaki's previous attempts. Then, with practiced skill, he began to work. In a matter of minutes, the problem that had stumped the rest of the class was solved flawlessly.

No, wait—it _wasn't_ flawless. It was small, but there was a mistake. And then, before he could stop himself, he was calling, "Moon, you've made a mistake."

A collective gasp rippled through the class, and immediately there were thirty-four pairs of eyes locked upon him—including the eyes of one genius, who stood at the front of the room with something akin to triumph gleaming in his eyes. His head was only half turned, only one eye was visibly fixed upon him—and that single eye narrowed into some unreadable expression as he responded calmly, "And tell me, what would that be, Mr…?"

"Ryuga," he said without thinking.

"…Ryuga," he finished. "Would you care to correct my work?"

Well…this was a bit of a predicament. He hadn't meant to draw attention to himself; he'd have to find a way to rectify what he'd done. "I think that's more the place of your teacher, don't you think?" he said swiftly.

Moon's eyes narrowed even further, while at the same time the teacher said, "I don't see anything wrong with it, Ryuga. If you think he's made a mistake, then by all means, correct it."

So not even the teacher understood what he'd done wrong. L hadn't expected this to happen, and he was swiftly beginning to regret saying anything at all. But still, it was obvious that he was being challenged—and so with great reluctance, he pushed himself out of his seat and slowly made his way up to the front of the room. Moon offered him a piece of chalk, and despite the fact that several others littered the tray beside the chalkboard, L was swift to accept.

"You see, Moon," L said calmly, adopting what he hoped was a teacherly persona, "you seem to have forgotten to carry over your negative from the answer of _this_ equation here—" he tapped the board in emphasis, "—to where you plugged said answer in to _that_ equation there." He made the correction with ease. It was a very simple mistake, and one that was frequently made—but even so, Moon's reaction to being corrected wasn't what he expected.

A curious grin spread across Moon's face. He took the chalk back from L and responded, "Yes, Mr. Ryuga, but seeing as the equation places the number in question within absolute value bars, whether or not the negative is carried over is inconsequential." He changed it back.

"It's bad form." L corrected it once again, finding himself slightly irritated, but mostly intrigued with this student who would be so bold as to challenge a figure of authority such as himself.

"I still obtained the correct answer in the end."

"Still, it matters not—"

And Moon interrupted him "You surprise me, Mr. Ryuga. You seem so focused on the mistake that doesn't matter. I'm quite surprised that you didn't point out the fact that I've very clearly written in the wrong number for variable Y in the second half of the equation."

L blinked. He craned his neck, peering up, and indeed—Moon was correct. He'd written in the wrong number. "But your answer was correct," he said dumbly. "How did you get the right answer with the wrong number? Were you cheating, perhaps?"

"Cheating?" The expression on Moon's face was nothing short of disgusted. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Ryuga, I have no need to cheat. I knew the real number, I simply wrote in the wrong one to have a bit of fun. Rest assured, I used the correct number in all of my calculations, thus the correct answer. I'm surprised you didn't notice it, I must admit. When you said I'd made a mistake, I almost believed that you'd caught on to my little jaunt of fun."

L stared blankly, the gears of his brain working overtime. _That…that was a test!_ _He just tested me! But why would he do that? What's he playing at?_

"Is there a problem?" Moon asked innocently. "Have I caught you off guard, Mr. Ryuga?"

L immediately regained his composure. "Not at all, Moon."

"Then I suggest we both take our seats," he commented smoothly. He placed the chalk back on the tray and swept past the older man, pausing when they were side by side. He leaned towards him, and in the lowest tone possible, he whispered, "By the way, Mr. Ryuga…it's pronounced Light."

Moon—no, _Light_ took his seat, leaving L to stare dumbly after him. He…he'd just been outdone! By a high school student! _I let my guard down,_ L justified frantically. _Next time I won't be so careless; there's no way he'll get the best of me twice._

"Ryuga?" the teacher asked. "If you would be so kind as to return to your seat…?"

"Oh…of course." L moved back to his seat in a daze, sliding into it and curling his toes comfortably around the edge. His thumb was brought to his lips, and although he didn't begin chewing on the nail, he pressed it firmly against his flesh and held it there. Light…Light Yagami. The sixth member of the task force? K? L didn't know…but he intended to find out. It was a bit unfortunate—after all, L had hoped to refrain from ever making contact with this student, especially not in such a degrading manner. But now it seemed that he'd be forced to spend more time on him. How irritating.

After that, the class period passed swiftly. L was overly conscious of how every few minutes Light's eyes would flit over to him, then dart away just as fast—and as if to spite him, the teen continued to shoot him small glances for the remainder of the period. Finally, the bell rang, and the students rushed from the room. L got to his feet as well, intending to catch Light before he left. But just as he moved to intercept him, the back of his head vanished through the door—and L was met with the realization that he'd be forced to track him down during lunch.

_So far you're nothing but trouble, Light Yagami._

Grumbling to himself, L slipped out of the room amidst the rest of the students, not bothering to say farewell to Mrs. Fujioka. Unfortunately, Light had vanished entirely, somehow managing to blend in despite his strangely perfect appearance. L immediately began scanning the heads of everyone that walked by, searching for any hint of amber. He forced his way through a group of football players, then through a clan of cheerleaders, then through a cloud of people with glasses and handheld gaming systems. And then he saw him.

Light hadn't exactly tried to get away, that much was obvious—for he was standing, rather obviously, in the middle of a large space inhabited by no students whatsoever. But where he was standing wasn't nearly as interesting as what he was standing _by—_ and what he was standing by just so happened to be a rather large fountain, filled to the brim with flowing water. How L hadn't seen it the first time, he knew not. The detective picked his way through the remaining students in his way, and just like that, he was standing in the empty space containing Light Yagami. The teen's back was to him and his head was down, no doubt examining the textbook that was clutched rather carelessly between two hands. This was strange…had he not expected L to track him down? With the taunting nature of his words, it had seemed quite likely that he was waiting for some sort of confrontation to take place.

L began to walk towards the genius. His footsteps were inaudible, aided by his lack of shoes and the gurgling of the fountain. He paused when he was a mere foot away from the person he was investigating, and for just a moment, his eyes flitted to the fountain that rested just to their left. It wasn't too deep, L noted. It would have come up to his shins if he stood in it. _And just why am I thinking about this?_

The answer came swiftly, and when it did, L found himself immediately overcome with an incredulous feeling. L— _the_ L—was feeling the urge to push Light Yagami into the fountain.

He slapped a hand to his mouth to contain a very uncharacteristic giggle at the thought of throwing Light into the water. _Good god, what's happening to me? Get it together, you can't fall apart in front of a suspect!_ At least, that's what he told himself—but in reality, that urge was still there. His hands twitched at his sides, and before he could stop himself he was reaching out with the intent of seeing his dream realized.

"Ryuga?"

L drew in a sharp breath as Light turned around, immediately dropping his hands back to his sides. All the better as far as L was concerned; he shouldn't be trying to push people into fountains. "Light," he greeted evenly, noting that the teen hadn't called him _Mr._ Ryuga.

Light dropped the textbook to the ground, where it came to rest beside his discarded bag. "I wondered if you would try to find me."

L decided to skip the niceties. "You made those mistakes on purpose."

Light's eyes widened, and he transformed into a picture of pure innocence. "What do you mean, Ryuga? I admit that I purposefully wrote the wrong number on the chalkboard, but that was just meant to be a bit of fun, not a test!"

"You're lying," L said, and it was true. There was a sharp glint in Light's eyes when he lied. He could tell after just one word. "You only wrote the wrong number to see if I'd notice, and you did the same thing when you didn't carry your negative over to the second equation. I know about you, Light—I know how intelligent you are. You wouldn't make such a mistake."

He raised a brow. "You know me? Now, how would you know me, Ryuga?"

L blanched. _He managed to get me upset enough to slip up without saying more than a few words…_

"What, you don't have an answer for me?" Light asked. "Don't tell me you're just another random stalker, Ryuga."

The detective attempted to pull himself back together, stating, "You heard your teacher, Light. I am a student teacher here to observe various classes on campus."

"Right," the teen said disbelievingly. "A student teacher wearing baggy jeans, an equally baggy shirt, and no shoes? And what's more, you clearly had no idea how to act in a classroom. Any normal student teacher wouldn't have questioned a student's work without the consent of the teacher. But you had the nerve to get up in front of the class and correct me." He leaned slightly closer, and L fought the urge to step back. "So then, it's quite obvious that you're not a student teacher, Ryuga. I'd bet that you're not even involved in education at all—and what's more, I suspect that you're not even giving me your real name."

"Your deductive skills are quite high," L commented, shuffling backwards slightly. "Are you always this attentive?"

"Of course I am," Light responded arrogantly. "It's been ingrained in me, naturally, seeing as my father is a member of the NPA."

And then, just like that, L put it all together. "Light Yagami," he said slowly, "son of Soichiro Yagami, chief of the NPA?"

"Well, of course," he said. "I assumed that you already knew that."

"And why would you assume such a thing?"

"It's rather obvious. After all, you called me _Moon_ before I told you how my name was pronounced. That's a sure sign that you readmy name before you heard it—therefore meaning that you researched me before you came here."

"How do you know that I didn't look at the seating chart in order to find out who you were?"

"Unlikely. If that were the case, then you would have seen that on the teacher's seating chart, she only has the last names of her students. You would have called me Yagami instead of Moon."

"Touché, Yagami," L murmured.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say—for the instant Light thought he'd won their little game, his chest swelled and his ego visibly inflated. "Now, Ryuga," he went on, "I'll admit that I'm a bit curious. Why would someone research me, take up the guise of a student teacher, blatantly seat himself in the back of my fourth period class, and confront me not just in the classroom, but in the courtyard as well?"

What should he say? Admittedly, Light was already looking quite suspicious…but L had a hard time believing that he'd managed to pinpoint the sixth member of the task force on the first try. But still, the fact that this boy was the son of Soichiro Yagami could not be ignored, and neither could his obvious deductive prowess. In either case, L knew that if this was indeed the K suspect, he could not tell him who he really was, or what he was doing. Not if he wanted to keep his life.

Light seemed to take his momentary silence as a refusal to admit his purpose. "Fine, then. I suppose that if you were this desperate to get into contact with me, I'll be seeing more of you in the future. I'll just have to beat the answer out of you then."

"You're planning to harm me, Light?" L asked, surprised to find that his throat felt constricted, his voice sounded thick.

"Only with my words, Ryuga." Then, again, he was leaning forward and whispering, "Do you want to know what really confuses me? What confuses me is the fact that you're clearly a very intelligent individual, yet you stepped into my trap without a second thought."

"So you _were_ testing me," L affirmed, narrowing his eyes in irritation. "You made me look like a fool, Light Yagami. No one has ever done something like that before."

"Of course I was testing you," he replied without hesitation. "Do you really think I'd make such simple mistakes without cause? It's because I _saw_ you, Ryuga. I saw—and still see—what you are."

"And what am I?" The detective asked, choking down nervousness. Was it possible that Light was K, and that he already knew who L was?

"You're a genius. You're like me."

L held in a sigh of relief. So he didn't know…

"I recognized that look in your eyes. You're _bored_." He took a bold step forward.

So he understood. L felt a pang of regret that anyone else had to suffer the same level of boredom that had so affected him until he came into possession of the Death Note. And unlike him, Light didn't have the ability to travel the world solving cases to ease his boredom. "I'm sure you share that particular sentiment, Light," L responded belatedly, realizing that the student was awaiting a response.

"Is that the only reason you decided to approach me?" Light pressed. "Was it just your boredom that drove you?"

"I work with your father," L said decisively, and he was pleased to discover that no, he wasn't lying to the teen.

Light raised a brow. "Really? You're a detective, then? That's strange, Ryuga, you look far too young to be working for the NPA."

"I am several years older than you," L shot back, feeling somewhat insulted by the teen's tone. "There is no need to behave so insolently. If you are indeed as intelligent as I believe you are, then behaving in such a juvenile manner is rather unbecoming."

He arched a brow. "Juvenile? You think so?"

L narrowed his eyes. "Don't test me, Yagami. I am already in a rather bad mood, seeing as you decided to humiliate me in front of the entire class."

He scoffed, "They didn't understand half of what we were talking about anyways. They have no idea that your errors in judgment were so humiliating."

_Such arrogance…and so painfully conceited…_ "Either way, I would appreciate it if in the future, you would refrain from testing me in such a way. It may produce unsavory results."

"Is that a threat, Ryuga?"

"Only if you see it as such, Light."

There was a moment of silence as the two stared each other down, eyes equally narrowed in identical shows of irritation. Then, Light broke the silence to say, "Just how do you work with my father, again?"

"I'm currently working to solve a case involving a series of heart attacks among criminals. Sound familiar?"

It was brief, and it was momentary—but just for a moment, L could have sworn that Light's eyes widened in shock. "Why, no, Ryuga," he said softly. "I can't say I'm familiar with such a case. Is it well known?"

"Not at all." L looked away, craning his neck to look at the sky in a display of careless insouciance. "I believe the heart attacks have just begun occurring. I'm sure it's nothing, but still, it's better safe than sorry." He glanced at Light through a curtain of hair, gauging his reaction.

To his disappointment, there was none. "Of course, Ryuga. I'll be eager to see how the case develops. After all, if my father is involved, I'm sure to hear about it." His eyes shimmered with unreadable emotion.

"Of course, Light. I'm sure to see more of you in the future."

Another moment of silence ensued, and L got the unnerving feeling that Light was sizing him up, trying to figure out whether or not he was a threat. _Light Yagami…you're arrogant, overly confident, prideful, and unrealistically intelligent…and what's more, you're connected to the NPA. But is it really you? Are you the sixth member of the task force, and my primary K suspect? I have to admit, the percentage suggests that you may be the one I'm looking for._

"Well?" Light asked after a moment. "Is that it, or are you going to stand here staring at me all day?"

A flicker of anger flared in L's chest. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll be going now, if you don't mind."

Light's eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded, turning away at a speed great enough to make his hair whip out around his head in a crude imitation of an amber halo.

L, on the other hand, hesitated. _Light,_ he thought, a thumb rising to press to his lips, _if you are K, then you are undoubtedly the most oxymoronic serial killer I have ever had the pleasure of encountering._ He took one step forward. _Let's see if we can ease each other's boredom for a while, eh?_

Taking back that singular step forward, L turned away. But then he paused, a childish urge taking hold of his entire being, and he turned back to face his newfound _friend._ "Light!" he called out loudly, though he was a mere three feet from the teen.

The Yagami boy frowned, turning once more to face him. "Yes, Ryuga?"

L took two large steps forward until he was almost nose to nose with the teen, reveling in the startled expression contained within those sepia orbs. The detective's hands closed around Light's shoulders, gripping tightly. He inched a leg forward, hooking his bare foot around the back of the teen's ankle so that one swipe of his foot would send him sprawling. Not that Light knew that, of course.

"Ryu…Ryuzaki?" Light echoed nervously, suddenly seeming concerned. "What are you…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," L murmured, inching closer. "Am I making you uncomfortable, Light?"

"Yes, actually," he growled, "you are. So if you wouldn't mind getting away from me…"

L grinned toothily, wincing as his facial muscles twisted into the unfamiliar expression. "Oh, but Light, you seemed so eagerto get to know me when I first approached you here."

"This isn't what I wanted, you psycho!" Light protested furiously, attempting to pull away.

L leaned just a hair closer, forcing himself to maintain his smirk despite his sudden urge to laugh, and Light's expression immediately grew panicked. "Light," he breathed. "My name…it's pronounced _Ryuzaki._ "

"W…what?"

L offered a deceitful grin before stepping forward, pushing his captive backwards as he went.

Light Yagami had just enough time to look surprised before he stumbled backwards, his arms immediately yanking free of L's grip, and fell straight into the fountain with a tremendous splash.

Then, ignoring the furious screeching emanating from the fountain, L turned around and walked away.


	7. Dagaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved being able to play around with the Scarlet Letter in this chapter to formulate clues. It was just so much fun! Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Light had never been so insulted in all his life. To think that this…this _Ryuzaki_ fellow had just waltzed into his life, shown him up, and then _pushed him into a fountain_ was enough to set him on edge. And then, to Light's disbelief, the bastard had the nerve to just up and walk away after he'd done it! How dare such an _awkward, strange, repulsive_ man humiliate him in such a way?

Light growled in a low tone, staring after Ryuzaki as he trudged away, his spine bent over in a painful manner. He was still sitting in the fountain, dripping wet, a spray of liquid falling lightly upon the top of his head.

"Oh my goodness! Light! Light, are you okay?"

Ah…Kiyomi Takada. Light looked up as she came running over like a lost puppy, eyes wide. "Takada," he greeted smoothly—or at least, as smoothly as he could considering he was talking to her from a rather large pool of water. "There's no need to be concerned. I'm perfectly fine." Still, though, he was all too eager to take the hand she offered him, stepping out of the fountain with the remnants of his dignity dragging on the ground behind him.

"Who was that man?" she demanded, waving a hand in Ryuzaki's direction. "Why was he so close to you? Why did he push you into the fountain?"

So she'd seen…how irritating. "It was nothing," he assured her calmly. "He's an old family friend who just so happened to be in the area. It may have appeared a bit strange, but he was just messing with me."

Takada immediately looked relieved. "Oh, so that's it! I was worried that he'd hurt you."

"No, I'm perfectly all right. But I seem to be a bit soaked, so if you don't mind…?"

"Oh! Of course!" Takada laughed, clearly embarrassed, and said, "I'll leave you to go dry off." She waved. "Bye, Light!"

"I'll see you later," Light called back, for the female was already several feet away. He shook himself off with as much grace as he could muster, ignoring the snickers emanating from the students who'd seen him fall into the fountain. He was soaked to the bone and in need of a change of clothes—and seeing as, once again, he'd taught himself the next lessons in his fifth and sixth period classes ahead of schedule, he saw no problem with checking himself out of school and heading home for the rest of the day.

As he collected his things and headed for the attendance office, Light's mind was focused only on the raven-haired detective who had so boldly approached him. The appearance of the detective concerned him greatly. He'd practically told him that he was looking for K, and it was all too clear that he was already a suspect. But why? He hadn't done anything to call attention to himself.

_Well, that's not true,_ he thought. _You've murdered hundreds of criminals in the past week. But still, all of them were already sentenced to death, so I'm not really doing anything wrong, right? I'm not doing what K did…I'm not just murdering everyone just because it suits me. I shouldn't be hunted down by the NPA—or the SPK—like K was. Still, though…that Ryuzaki person concerns me. There was something familiar about him, as if…as if I_ know _him…_

"That was interesting, eh, Light?" came a raspy voice from behind him.

_Ryuk…why can't he leave me alone? Damn it…_ "Very interesting, Ryuk," Light ground out in a low tone, mindful of those around him. "It's just _thrilling_ to know that the NPA is investigating the heart attacks caused by _me._ It's not like I had enough on my plate, what with tracking down the other Death Note owner. If I'm not careful, I could end up arrested—or worse."

"Oh, don't worry," Ryuk crowed. "If you get arrested, I'll definitely kill you, so you don't have to worry about being stuck in jail."

"How comforting," Light grumbled as he opened the door to the attendance office. He signed himself out without incident, seeing as he was now eighteen years of age and capable of doing such a thing without the consent of his parents. Then, wincing as water continued to dribble down his back, he began the trek home.

"Come on, Light," Ryuk whined, floating along behind him. "You haven't done anything to locate the other Death Note owner yet! All you've done is murder criminals and study for school! When are you going to start working on what _I_ want you to do?"

"I _am_ working on it!" Light snapped, realizing too late that he'd raised his voice, and was now receiving strange looks from people on the streets. He lowered his voice, whispering, "While you've been away eating your precious apples, I've been compiling lists of all mysterious heart attacks in the _entire world!_ It's taken hours, and I've only gotten through a single day!"

"Huh? Really? I didn't know that…"

"Well, maybe if you'd help me instead of lounging about, you'd know what I'm doing to help you!"

"Oh…maybe you're right…" the shinigami drifted aimlessly, looking around at the humans around him.

"And besides," Light continued, "as long as we're walking around, we have a chance to find the notebook user through your shinigami eyes. According to the rules of the notebook, you can't see a user's lifespan, right? That should set them apart from the other humans."

"That only works for humans," Ryuk corrected. "It doesn't matter for shinigami. In fact, if I wanted to, I could convert your years into human time and tell you how long you have until you die."

Light drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. _Useless…you're useless, shinigami._ "Fine, then—if you can't help me, then at least shut up and let me think!"

The shinigami laughed. "Humans are so touchy…"

Light whirled around, ready to start screaming in the middle of the street despite the fact that any passerby could have heard him—but to his frustration, Ryuk was long gone by the time he managed it. He turned back around, well aware of the curious eyes watching him from all around, and began to move towards his house. _I have to be careful…if Ryuzaki thinks I'm doing something wrong, and he wants to have me arrested, then it's possible that he'll be tailing me. I shouldn't talk to Ryuk in public anymore if that's the case. No, wait—this is perfect! If I give Ryuk the excuse that someone might be tailing me, then I won't have to talk to him anymore! Brilliant!_ Light, at the prospect of being rid of the shinigami's ramblings, let out a rather wide grin—but then, seeing that people were still staring at him strangely, he adopted a neutral expression, hoping that Ryuzaki hadn't followed him to witness such strange behavior.

It wasn't long before he reached his house. His clothing had dried slightly, and his hair was beginning to dry as well. He opened the door of his house and entered with ease, toeing his shoes off next to the door and hanging up his bag. Sachiko wasn't home yet; she'd said something about running errands all day. Soichiro was at work and Sayu was at school, which meant that Light was alone. Not even Ryuk was present, having flown off in the middle of the street.

Light made his way upstairs swiftly and seated himself at his desk, immediately withdrawing the Death Note and placing it on the desk in front of him. He flipped past the ink-blackened pages, then past the several pages he'd filled with the names of criminals. Finally, he reached the middle of the notebook, where he'd stashed a cluster of papers that hadn't come from the Death Note, but from one of his school notebooks. He pulled them out delicately, sparing them a glance before casting them aside. These were the papers on which he had begun compiling a list of names of the criminals who had been killed, but not by his hand. It was tedious work, and it would have been far easier to complete via computer, but Light was no fool. He knew how easy it was to hack into computers and access information that others would have wished to remain confidential. It was much easier to compile his information on papers so that he could destroy it along with the Death Note should it be discovered. He'd set up a sort of security system for the Death Note, so that unless his top desk drawer was opened in a very specific way, it would explode, taking all physical evidence with it. It was perfect. It was _ingenious,_ just like Light himself.

Light flicked on his TV lazily and reached for a pen, letting the point rest on the pages of the Death Note. He should probably be working on locating the other user, but seeing as Ryuk wasn't around to whine and complain about his work ethic, he thought that he might as well take the chance to rid the world of a few dozen criminals. He switched the channel over to a news station and leaned back in his seat, waiting calmly for any reports to come in involving criminals.

Ah…there one was. A criminal attempting to rob a local bank had attempted to hold hostages, and had ended up murdering several people in the process. Definitely worthy of the death penalty. Light wrote his name calmly and continued to wait.

Another one. This one had already been sentenced to death for one crime or another. Light didn't pay attention to what he'd done—all that mattered was that he'd been sentenced, and was therefore open for elimination. His name was written down, and Light moved on to the next criminal, then the next, and the next, until pages upon pages had been taken up, adding on to his previous writings. This… _this_ was what the notebook was meant to be used for. This was justice…not as K had butchered it, but as it was meant to be, in its purist form. It was beautiful. Enthralling.

_Ryuzaki…you would attempt to take this from me? You would take the world from its salvation? From its savior?_

Light dropped the pen immediately, the soft sound echoing unnaturally around the room. "Oh, god…" he whispered, pressing his palms against his forehead. "Savior? Salvation? I…I sound like…"

_I sound like K._

Light shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself in horror. "I can't," he whispered aloud, thankful that Ryuk wasn't around to hear him break down. "It's bad enough that I acted so arrogant when I was talking to Ryuzaki today, but now, to call myself a _savior…_ it's sickening. I can't let myself become K…I can't let that happen."

_Still…I have to admit, there are already some striking similarities between the two of us, the most obvious one being that we both have Ryuk as our shinigami. That right there should make me question—_

"What?" Light snapped aloud, feeling only somewhat insane. "Question what? Question whether or not _I_ am K? That's ridiculous! I'm not him; there's no way that I'd do the things he's doing!"

_Am I really sure about that? I mean…just look at me. I just called myself a savior, and said that I would bring about the world's salvation. And the only reason I realized I was wrong was because of the way story written in the notebook depicts K and his insane obsession with justice. If I didn't know that story, if I didn't know just how wrong K really was, then I would never have figured out how wrong_ I _was. Who's to say that I wouldn't just let myself spiral into that belief that I'm a god? Who's to say that I wouldn't become someone like K?_

The thought didn't make him feel any better. But he couldn't wallow in self-pity forever—and so he unfurled himself slowly, rubbed at his eyes, and forced himself to take deep breaths to avoid impending panic.

What happened next didn't help.

The TV, which was still droning in the background, had switched to a new news show. The host, a young woman dressed in a sharp black suit, was in the midst of speaking. "…a series of mysterious heart attacks, which have only been occurring amongst criminals. Authorities are currently refusing to acknowledge the possibility that these heart attacks are orchestrated, but a large number of people have begun referring to the person causing them as Kira, modeled after the English word _killer._ "

Light's head snapped up. "K…Kira?" he breathed. "No…it has to be a coincidence…"

"So far there have been an estimated total of four-hundred deaths credited to Kira. The police released the following statement when questioned about the possible existence of such a being—"

Light, in a fit of horror, slammed his fist into the television, turning it off. _Kira…K…it can't be a coincidence. Am…am I…?_

No…it couldn't be! There was still a chance that it wasn't true. After all, there was another user in the human world at the moment. In fact, according to Ryuk, there could be as many as two. Surely one of the two other users was K. Not him. It couldn't be him.

_But…they're not the ones that have Ryuk trailing them. I am. It…it has to be me. I…I'm K. I'm Kira._

A flare of panic spiked through Light's chest as he realized just what that meant. "Kira!" he gasped alive. "Kira…dies at the end of the story! N kills him! I…I'm going to die…" It shouldn't have been a surprise. Ryuk had told him that by using the Death Note, he'd sealed his fate. He'd sold his soul to do this. He should be completely willing to sacrifice his life. But still…he didn't want to die. He wanted to live, and he wanted to use the notebook the way it was meant to be used.

_Well, there's a way to do that, isn't there? After all, look at what's already been changed. I know what's going to happen. So I can change it. I can stop myself from dying the way Kira did, and I can stop myself from using the notebook the way he did. I won't become him. I won't let myself spiral into that depression of arrogance and pride. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. I may be Kira, but…I'm not him. Not really. Not unless I follow the path he took._

And what was that path, exactly? He had no idea. Perhaps he was already walking that path of good intentions, lurching along on the road to Mu. He only had the second part of the tale, after all. He wouldn't be able to tell if he was taking the exact wrong actions.

"I'll change it!" he gasped aloud, struggling to evade the dark thoughts. "I'll change everything!" He shot up in his seat and, grabbing the Death Note, dashed over to a false book on his bookshelf and hid it there securely. Then he dashed back over to the drawer of his desk, immediately dismantling the trap. "This was my first instinct, so it must be what I did in the first half of the story, the part that I don't have! I'll hide it somewhere else and make it so that no one could possibly know where it is!" He whipped back around, dashing over to his door and wrenching the mechanical pencil from the door hinge where it served as a sort of alarm system for his room. "I'll disarm this! No one looking for Kira can find any sort of similarity between him and me!" He turned back to his television, and immediately his eyes widened—he needed to change the station! He needed to make it so that no one could tell that he'd been watching the news! It was a possible connection between Kira and him! He turned the TV back on and switched the station, turning it off immediately afterwards. "What else…what else have I missed?"

And then it hit him—his conversation with Ryuzaki! "Oh, dear god…" he breathed, fighting the urge to start pacing back and forth. "Could I have acted any more like Kira? If he's looking for Kira, then he'll definitely think my behavior was suspicious…and he's promised to see more of me in the future, which _proves_ that he's considering me a possible suspect at the very least." He paused, realizing suddenly that he'd failed in his quest to keep himself from pacing, and ran both hands through his hair. How bad was the damage? How severely had he already damned himself? Was Ryuzaki suspicious because he'd acted so arrogantly in front of him? "I have to change it," Light breathed. "I have to change everything. I can never act like that in front of him again, not if I want to retain my innocence. I will not be convicted for killing criminals who were already destined to be killed! I…I'll have to make him believe that I'm not like Kira. I'll trick him into believing that I'm innocent."

He winced. Was that even possible after the disaster that had been their first meeting? Ryuzaki was a genius, after all. Surely he would realize, after witnessing Light's true nature, that he was merely pretending to be innocent and sweet. _Still…I have to try. Perhaps I can gain his trust and make him see that I'm doing the right thing. Or maybe, if he gets too close, I can just kill—_

"No!" he hissed. "You can't be like Kira. You can't just start killing anyone who gets in your way. Ryuzaki hasn't done anything to warrant his death, so you can't just go around offing anyone who goes against you! You're a mortal, not a god. You can't punish people because they don't agree with you. The world doesn't work that way."

"Huh? What are you rambling about?"

Light jumped violently, whipping around, fully prepared to explain his rambling to his mother or sister—but instead, to his irritation, he was met with the sight of a clown-faced shinigami leering at him. "Ryuk!" he snapped. "What are you—?"

The shinigami cut him off carelessly. "What'cha rambling about?"

"Oh…" Light trailed off. It was better if he didn't say anything. The shinigami didn't need to know anything more than the knowledge he was already gifted with. "It's nothing, Ryuk…just a bit of mindless muttering." The shinigami responded, but Light didn't pay attention—he was far too busy thinking about his new plan.

_First, I have to locate the other users of the Death Note and report them to Ryuk so he can kill them. Meanwhile, I have to kill criminals while being especially careful that each criminal I kill deserves it. I have to keep myself from turning into my own worst enemy. I'll also have to convince Ryuzaki and the rest of the investigators who will no doubt begin investigating this case soon that I'm innocent. To do this, I'll have to change everything. My first instinct can't be trusted…if there exists a first half of the story I have, and someone gets their hands on it who works for the investigation, it will be all too easy for them to figure out who I am just based on the story. I'll have to constantly second guess myself if I want to survive._

"You sure?" Ryuk persisted. "You sounded pretty panicked."

"I'm perfectly fine!" Light snapped, realizing too late that his tone suggested just the opposite. "I mean…you can drop it, Ryuk. I'm working to find the other users, so you don't have to worry about anything else. Just let me work, and soon enough I'll have located the notebook you seek."

The shinigami shrugged. "Whatever, kid. Just work fast, all right? I don't have a lot of time here."

Light nodded shortly, still attempting to control his rate of breathing so that he didn't send himself into another fit. He couldn't afford to lose his head at a time like this. Not with so much at stake. "Of course, Ryuk," he whispered, relived to find that the tightness in his chest was alleviating. "I _will_ find the other Death Note owners. And when I do, you can finally, _finally_ leave."

†††

"Greetings, task force members. I am L."

Silence. Four pairs of eyes stared at L in disbelief.

"You…you're L?"

L fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Matsuda. I am L."

The dark-haired detective gasped with childlike wonder, eyes widening until it appeared that they might pop off his head entirely. "Wow…I can't believe that we're meeting a legend!"

Despite Matsuda's obvious air-headedness, L felt a small prickle of amusement at his endearing words. Perhaps this was why he'd kept him on the investigation team in the first place rather than kicking him off for his incompetence. _He'd make a good team mascot,_ L mused, pressing a thumb against his lips.

Soichiro Yagami cleared his throat, shooting a glare Matsuda's way as he said gruffly, "Forgive my coworker's foolishness."

Hmm…if Soichiro's words were anything to go by, it appeared that he didn't remember him from the capture of Kou Hashimoto. It wasn't too surprising, of course—during the entire investigation, L had only spoken to them via computer. In addition, L's face had been covered while he made the arrest, and the darkness of the world around them had been more than enough to thoroughly mask his true appearance. All the better for L, of course—for the last time he'd seen Soichiro, he hadn't exactly been pleased to be working with him. "So," L murmured at last, "can I take that to mean that you are not at all excited to meet me?"

"Well…no, that's not…"

L offered his new coworker a light smile. "Relax, Chief Yagami. I'm only joking."

It was supposed to make the poor man feel better, but all it did was bring about a new wave of sputtering. Clearly, the words _joking_ and _L_ did not fit together well in the chief's head. Finally, he seemed to regain his composure, clearing his throat and grinding out, "Of course. Forgive me."

L ignored him in favor of turning away and walking over to the window covering the far wall. It was very dark out; stars were already gleaming in the sky, and the moon glistened high above the horizon. It looked very cold…

"L?" Soichiro broke in. "Are you going to explain what we're doing here?"

"Ah…right." L stretched out a hand, still facing the window, and pressed his palm to the chilled glass. To his amusement, the area around his hand immediately fogged up, making it difficult to see his reflection. Then he turned his head slightly and murmured, "Kira."

There was another prolonged period of silence before Soichiro spoke again. "Kira? What do you mean? What is Kira?"

"Not what," L corrected softly. "Who." The lights in the city below were blinking. L found himself mesmerized by them. Kira was down there. He was down there, living somewhere in the space below his gaze. "Tell me, Chief Yagami, did you happen to catch the twelve o'clock news broadcast?"

"I did not. None of us did. We were busy solving your little tests, as you well know."

"Oh, of course. Silly me." L drew away from the window and turned back to face the task force. _He_ had not caught that particular news broadcast either. But he had caught the one at three, and it had repeated the story first reported at twelve. The story concerned the numerous criminals that had dropped dead in the past two weeks of heart attacks, and suggested that someone named Kira was behind it.

Kira…K. It was not a coincidence, L knew. There were no coincidences—only well-planned happenstances. If anything, the past two weeks had proved _that_ to him, at least. So now he knew that K was Kira, and while that didn't exactly give him much information to work with, it _did_ cement his belief that the story written in the Death Note was real. "The clock is ticking," he murmured to himself, momentarily forgetting the task force's presence. "How long will it be, I wonder, until he finds me? Perhaps he already has…" L was certain that Kira knew that he was onto him. That was why he had broken pattern. And he _had_ broken pattern, for the world wasn't meant to learn of Kira's existence for another few days at the very least. And yet, the news broadcast had gone out today. It was obvious that somehow, Kira had altered the story in the notebook. Perhaps he wasn't even aware that he was doing it. It was entirely possible that some sort of butterfly effect had branched out from L's previous actions, reaching Kira and changing the tale unintentionally.

"L? What did you say?"

Oh, right…the task force. L forced the intrusive thoughts from his mind, wholly focusing on the men standing before him. "Apologies. My mind appears to have wandered a bit." He turned fully to face them, abandoning his post at the window in favor of crouching on one of the chairs in the room. "I have selected you to help me with a case, you see. While the case, known simply as the Kira case, has not been acknowledged by the ICPO just yet, it _is_ a case that must be solved immediately, for the sake of the world as a whole." He motioned vaguely to the other chairs, and the task force took their seats, albeit somewhat reluctantly. "You see, there has been a rather large string of heart attacks among criminals over the past two weeks. While the authorities have been slow to call it anything more than a coincidence, I—and the general public as a whole—know better. The person behind the heart attacks has been given the name Kira, and is committing his murders in an attempt to rid the world of all crime."

Aizawa was the first to speak. "But…they're _heart attacks._ You can't cause heart attacks on such a large scale, especially not when the targets are being kept in high security prisons around the world!"

"Kira can," L responded in a murmur. "I have been gifted information that suggests Kira can kill so long as he has a name and a face."

"How can you possibly know that?" Aizawa demanded.

"Well…" L trailed off. He'd already decided to withhold knowledge of the Death Note from the task force. After all, as the story had clearly defined, the task force's knowledge of the notebook had led to nothing but trouble. It was better if L was the only one who really knew what he was getting them into. "I've done extensive research into this already, research that would take far too long to recount. But as a whole, the criminals who have been targeted have all been ones that have had their name and face broadcasted to the public. Those under protection, or those with their names misspelled in the broadcasts were not targeted. This leads me to believe that however Kira is killing criminals, he requires a name and a face to do so." It was partially a lie, of course—while Kira did need a name and a face, it wasn't true that only criminals whose names were broadcast were being killed. After all, L had done away with hundreds of criminals from his private files, none of which were ever seen by anyone but himself. _Those_ criminals certainly hadn't had their names broadcast. But the task force was gullible. They would believe whatever he told them, with a little persuasion.

"Oh!" Matsuda breathed, eyes wider than before. "Wow, that's so impressive, L! I can't believe you figured all of this out, and way before the ICPO even recognized Kira as a real person!"

"Oh, yes," L responded softly, "I forgot. While we're in each other's presence, I will ask that you refer to me as Ryuzaki. It wouldn't do for Kira to catch wind of the fact that I'm after him." Assuming, of course, that he hadn't already. If Light Yagami was Kira, then it was far too late for that. But, again, it was a bit of a long shot to assume that the first person he'd investigated was Kira—though it _wasn't_ a long shot to suspect him enough to continue investigating him, as L fully intended to do. "Now, I've already devised a plan for the beginning of this investigation so that we can work safely and efficiently to catch Kira as soon as possible."

"Just wait a minute!" Soichiro broke in, looking quite flustered. "You can't honestly expect us to believe that someone exists who has the ability to spontaneously cause heart attacks on a whim! That's completely absurd!"

…So much for the task force eating up every word he said. Oh well, if Soichiro required proof, then L would gladly provide it. "If you wish for proof," he murmured, "then I will offer you just that. I will simply need a few days to arrange the acquiring of said proof."

"And what do we do until then?" Soichiro demanded. "Do you expect us to sit around doing nothing until we have proof that you're not chasing a rumor?"

"I am not chasing the rumor," L felt inclined to say once more. "I am chasing a man—no, a _teenager,_ if I'm correct. I have already begun investigating suspects, in fact."

_"L,"_ Soichiro insisted, "what do we do?"

"It's Ryuzaki," he reminded the chief in a murmur. "And until I get you the evidence you wish for, you will _not_ be sitting around doing nothing. Instead, we will meet every day at midnight exactly to discuss the case and compile data. I am aware that you are not yet convinced that this case is real. However, we will still be gathering data for the next several days until I am able to prove to you that it is, in fact, nonfictional."

"Right," the chief said gruffly. "If that's all, then we should be going."

He was clearly irritated, L thought, and unwilling to chase what he believed to be a ghost. And what was more, L hadn't exactly been what he was expecting from the world's greatest detective, which didn't help his case much. It would take a few days to win the chief over. But once he did, he would have the full trust of the entire task force. _That_ was what he needed. "Chief Yagami," L said softly, "before you leave, I will need to provide you with the location of our next meeting. I am switching hotels every three days, but I am switching hotel _rooms_ every day. It is merely a precaution until the construction of my permanent headquarters in Japan reaches its completion."

"Fine, then. Where are we meeting tomorrow?"

"Room twenty-two," L responded calmly. "This hotel. Midnight. Don't be late."

Soichiro nodded shortly. "Fine, then. If you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now. My family is waiting for me to return home." He shot a glance at the other members of the task force. "Matsuda, Aizawa, Mogi—you should leave too. There's no point in staying here any longer."

Such resentment…L shook his head slightly.

"But chief," Matsuda protested, "we can't just—"

"Yes you can," L cut him off. "I apologize that we've gotten off on the wrong foot. You are now free to go, seeing as Chief Yagami has decided that we won't be doing anything productive until he receives proof of Kira's existence."

"Hang on!" Soichiro snapped. "I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to say it," L responded calmly. "Your feelings of dislike are obvious. Now, if you wouldn't mind—I have things to attend to, and your presence is no longer needed."

Soichiro didn't hesitate. He shot L an intense glare, seemingly no longer feeling the need to conceal his irritation, and snapped, "I will return tomorrow. I expect some form of evidence." He turned on heel, and the next moment he was gone.

"Sorry for that," Aizawa broke in, some of his earlier fire gone. "He's stressed, that's all."

L nodded "I understand. You must be stressed as well, so by all means—take your leave."

Aizawa nodded, and a moment later he exited along with Matsuda, then Mogi, who hadn't said a word the entire time.

And then L was alone. He cast a brief glance to the closed door of one of the two bedrooms in the hotel room, assuring himself that Watari was still working and not walking into the living room just yet. Then he turned, slowly, just as before, and stared out the window.

"Kira…" he murmured aloud. "Who are you? Are you Light? Or…someone else?"

"L?" a voice murmured. "What are you going on about?"

The detective didn't bother to turn around. "Watari," he greeted, feeling somewhat irritated that he'd come out of his room. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course, L."

He paused, for just a moment, as if to rethink what he was about to ask—but he already knew the course of action he would take. It was what he was meant to do, after all. "Somewhere in this region of Japan, there exists a criminal by the name of Lind L. Tailor who is about to be executed. I want you to contact the prison holding him and put them in contact with me. There are a few things I need to arrange with them regarding the fate of that particular criminal."

"Is that all, sir?"

"For now, yes. Thank you, Watari."

"L…" Watari said softly, unmoving. He paused, as if waiting for L to speak. But when he did not, the inventor went on. "I worry over this case you have adopted as of late. The Kira Case…how do you know that it is not a series of unrelated coincidences?"

"They are not coincidences," L responded. "Kira is real, Watari. He is real, and he is in the midst of committing the most atrocious act of mass murder in all of history. Therefore, it falls to me to stop him."

"You have no proof that Kira is real."

"I do have proof. And soon I will have more, after you do what I say by contacting the prison."

Watari sighed deeply. "Is there nothing I can say that will convince you to drop this?"

"Nothing. Now please, contact the prison. I am running on limited time, and I do not wish to waste any of it."

Watari's only response was a quaint nod. He turned, and with only a modicum of hesitation, retreated back to his room to do L's bidding.

Once again, L was left alone. For a long while he simply stood, eyes locked on the window. It was bright inside the hotel room, and dark outside—and so if L tried, he could just barely see his own reflection in the window, staring back at him with shadowed eyes. When he raised a hand, his reflection copied. When he reached out, his reflection copied. And when he placed not one, but both palms against the chilled glass, his reflection copied that as well. He looked beyond that abysmal reflection, and just as before, he saw the lights twinkling and glittering down on the streets below. From this hotel room, he could see everything—the way the moon reflected so sharply off cars parked far, far below, the way the neon lights adorning various stores flickered on and off in a predictable pattern, the way people skittered back and forth like ants—he could see it all. It made him feel overly inflated, as if he were some sort of god gazing down upon the insignificant people of the world.

He shook himself. No…he was not a god. Kira was the only one who thought like that. He couldn't delude himself into thinking he was greater than he really was. It would lead him down a dangerous road.

And so with that in mind, L tore his gaze away from the window and turned, heading back to his room with heavy steps. He had work to do—work that came in the form of the writing of criminals' names.

†††

The next day, everything fell into place—but not in the way L expected.

He'd contacted the prison, then the Japanese government, and in a single day had managed to do the impossible—get permission to use Lind L. Tailor as bait for Kira, who, again, was not yet considered a real person. The idea was simple. In return for Tailor's freedom, he would be made to read off a message to the public speaking of Kira's injustice, and how he was evil and deserved to die. The idea was that the message would be broadcast in small parts of the world, bit by bit, until Kira killed Tailor and made himself known. But L already knew where Kira was, and he _definitely_ knew that he was real—and so this test was more for the world's sake than anything else. It would prove to the ICPO—who was not yet recognizing Kira as a nonfictional person—and to the task force—who, again, was not willing to accept Kira' existence—that he was, in fact, real.

It happened at approximately twelve o'clock. He set up the broadcast, made sure Lind L. Tailor knew his lines, and stepped back to let it all play out. This was exactly how it had happened in the story written within the notebook, and it was exactly how it was going to happen now. If he was right—and he was—Kira was arrogant and prideful, and above all else, childish. He hated to lose. And so if Tailor got up in front of the "whole world" talking about how Kira was evil and needed to die, he would surely feel the need to kill him just to prove a point. It would prove Kira evil. It would make the world understand that _L_ was in the right. It would provide the task force with the evidence they requested. Once they all understood that L was right and Kira was wrong, they would have no issues in helping him track the murderer down. It would all go exactly as planned, right down to the last detail. It was perfect. It was flawless.

And so never, in the wildest of L's dreams, did he suspect that it wouldn't work.

The broadcast started. Lind L. Tailor started talking. He called Kira evil. He called him a murderer. He called himself the salvation that humanity was calling for. And L, while it was happening, waited. He waited for the telltale grasping of the chest, the choking gasps, the pained screech, the dull thud that would soon sound as Tailor's head hit the desk along with the rest of his body. But most of all, he waited for Kira to prove himself the monster he knew he was.

And…it never happened. Tailor continued speaking, continued challenging Kira, but nothing ever came of it. He remained alive, completely unaffected by the power of the Death Note. And when the broadcast ended, and Tailor slumped back against his chair in relief, it became clear that Kira wasn't going to act.

It wasn't possible that Kira wasn't watching. He had to be, he _had to be watching it!_ But it was _wrong._ Kira was evil, L knew he was—so why hadn't he taken the bait? Why hadn't he killed Lind L. Tailor?

The task force, who was standing beside him at the time, were unsurprised for the most part. "I told you," Soichiro grumbled. "I told you that Kira wasn't real, and you've just proved me right."

"Sorry, Ryuzaki," Matsuda exclaimed, eyes wider than usual. "I thought you were right, I really did…but if Kira isn't real, then what's the point of chasing after him?"

"Agreed," Aizawa chimed in. "There's no point." He rose. "We should be leaving now. I'm sorry this didn't work out."

Mogi nodded, saying nothing.

And L, in a moment of weakness, snapped out, "Wait! Just wait a few minutes. I feel confident that Kira will act sometime within the next five minutes."

"He didn't see the broadcast," Soichiro protested, "because he isn't real. Therefore he has no way of killing Lind L. Tailor." He motioned for the rest of his detectives to rise, and they did so. The next moment they were moving towards the door.

They only made it one step before Lind L. Tailor, still seated at the desk in front of the deactivated cameras, suddenly clutched at his chest, choked out a gurgling screech, fell forward, and hit the desk with the dull thud L had predicted.

Dead.

"What in the—?" Soichiro whipped around, jaw hanging open, just as Tailor crumpled to the ground and was immediately dragged off by a couple of guards. His eyes immediately locked on L. "What the hell just happened, Ryuzaki?" he demanded, a hint of panic coloring his voice.

A feeling of relief spread through L as he looked upon Tailor's dead body. "That," he murmured, "was your proof, Chief Yagami. Kira is real. He has just killed Tailor, as he has killed hundreds of other criminals."

Soichiro's head whipped back and forth from L to Tailor several times. "You…" he sputtered. "It's really…"

"It's real," L affirmed. "You wanted proof, and I have given it to you." He looked past Soichiro to eye the other members of the task force. "Is there anyone here who can doubt the existence of Kira after seeing his power with your own two eyes?"

There was a general shake of the head.

"Good," L murmured. "In that case, be sure to arrive on time for tonight's meeting. We will begin compiling information involving Kira's killings, and we will attempt to devise a plan of action. Above all else, we must remember—what Kira has done here today is unforgivable. Lind L. Tailor's death should not have occurred as it did, and Kira should not have killed him. He has taken a human life without remorse. It was a criminal's life, yes—but it was still a life. It was still murder. I believe we can all agree on that."

"Yeah!" Matsuda agreed eagerly. "Kira must be really evil to do something like this! I don't care who he is, we'll find him and bring him down—because killing someone in cold blood like that is evil without a doubt."

There was a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the task force, and a moment later they were falling into a petty discussion of Kira's so-called justice, the words of which constituted nothing L cared for, for he already knew of everything they were talking about. And so instead L turned, keeping his back to the task force, and tucked a scrap of paper into his pocket.

A scrap of paper that, if anyone had dared to look, would have contained the name _Lind L. Tailor_ spelled out in L's spikey handwriting.

†††

Light Yagami stared at the television, which cast an eerie blue glow in the darkness of his room. Upon the screen there resided a young man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, proudly proclaiming his superiority over Kira. Lind L. Tailor, was it? Ah, yes…that was what the nameplate said.

"Well, would you look at that?" Ryuk crowed eagerly, a cackling laugh breaking the relative silence of the room. "You're being challenged, _Kira._ "

"Don't call me that," Light snapped immediately. "I told you, I don't like that name. I'm not Kira. I'm not _evil._ "

"Well, _he_ seems to think differently." Ryuk gestured to the TV, where Tailor was still speaking fervently. "L thinks you're despicable."

Hmm…was that man really L? Light examined Tailor, eyes narrowing as they raked along long black hair and amber eyes that matched his own almost perfectly. He'd said that he was L, but Light had seen no glint of intelligence, no wealth of knowledge behind those amber eyes. He'd seen a more intelligent look in _Ryuzaki's_ eyes. If this was L, then why didn't he look…well, like _L?_

_"…your despicable acts against humanity, which will surely be punished…"_

Light ground his teeth as the man droned on.

_"You are evil, Kira. What you're doing is wrong."_

"Evil?" Light echoed, shooting to his feet. "You think…that I'm evil? But why? Why am I evil, L? Is it because I've been killing criminals who _deserve_ to die? I'm doing the same thing you are—sending criminals to their deaths. What makes my actions any different from yours as a detective?" He stepped back. The Death Note was resting on his desk, a name half-written on one of the pages. "I'm not Kira," he whispered aloud. "I'm not the original. I'm not the person who kills on a whim, damn it! Why can't you see that? Why can't you see that what I'm doing is right? They were going to die anyways…they were all going to die, no matter what I did."

Ryuk drifted closer, laughing that clownish laugh of his as he eyed the television. "What are you going to do about this, Light? Are you just going to let him walk all over you?"

Light's head whipped around to face the shinigami. "What would you have me do?" he demanded indignantly. "Kill him? He's innocent! He's _L!_ "

Ryuk shrugged. "Fine, then. But wouldn't it be easier to get rid of your only enemy now, like this? You could just focus all your attention on finding the other users instead of worrying about L."

For a moment, Light did nothing but stare blankly. Then, slowly, his eyes widened, and he whispered, "That's what he wants me to think."

"What? What are you saying?"

"L…he's not this stupid. He'd know that if he presented himself to Kira like this, he'd kill him immediately. He wouldn't hesitate to get his only enemy out of the way. According to him, by opposing him at all, L would be a criminal. That would be all the justification Kira needed to kill him."

"They why's the detective revealing himself like this?"

"That's just it," Light breathed, eyes locking onto the television with new intelligence. "He's not. Lind L. Tailor isn't L—he's just a proxy set into place by L to test whether or not Kira is real. If I kill him, that would prove that Kira is real and willing to do anything to preserve his own life. It's just like Kira. If I were like him, then I would do it. I'd kill him and justify my actions by telling myself that L was a criminal for opposing me. But I'm not like him. I'm not Kira—or at least, I'm not like the original. I'm not like the one in the story."

"So what are you going to do?" Ryuk asked, clearly uncaring.

Light shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything. I'm just going to sit here and let L make himself look like a fool. Then, maybe, when this is over, I'll send him a message and tell him that he's wrong for thinking I'm evil."

"Huh?" Ryuk twisted in midair, floating upside down, craning his neck to stare at the teen. "What do you mean?"

"I can control people's actions with the Death Note and make them do whatever I wish of them, as I'm sure you know. I've only ever tested it on that second victim, the rapist I killed by running him into traffic. But I don't need to have tested it any further than that to make a criminal in Japan leave a suicide note saying whatever it is I want to say."

"And just what are you going to tell him? That you're the savior this world needs? That you spared his life, and he owes you for it?"

"I'm no savior," Light murmured. "And he doesn't owe me a thing for sparing him." He sat back down at his desk and picked up his pen, tapping it against the paper. He scribbled out the half-written name and picked a space below it, immediately pulling up a new window on his computer and beginning to search the NPA database for criminals sentenced to death in the Kanto region. "I'm not sure what to say," he admitted, staring at the face of the first criminal to pop up in the database. "What will make L believe that I'm on his side? What will make him understand what I'm doing?" He pressed pen to paper, creating a tiny dot but not dragging it up or down to form the first letter of the criminal's name.

And then, suddenly, it came to him—and so with a grin, Light began to move his pen, carving out the demise of yet another criminal.

†††

It was late. To be more specific, it was one in the morning—so perhaps it would be called _early_ at this point. But that was beside the point. It was late, and L was working, as per usual. So far he'd used the task force to compile a full list of criminals being killed all around the world, including location, time of death, crime committed, and what kind of sentence had been assigned to each criminal.

"This is taking forever," Matsuda groaned, breaking the silence.

"Matsuda!" Soichiro snapped for the fourth time in the single hour they'd been working. "If you're not going to keep quiet and work, then there's no need for you to be here!"

The detective flinched, shaking his head desperately. "No, chief, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"

L rolled his eyes as the pointless bickering continued. He'd forgotten how much he despised working with others. But still, they were necessary. He needed them, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

"Seriously, though," Matsuda went on, vaguely catching L's attention. "This seems so pointless. What are we going to learn by cataloguing all of Kira's victims?"

L opened his mouth, about to tell the man off—but to his surprise, Mogi beat him to it, speaking for the first time.

"If you can't see what we've already learned, and what we _will_ learn by cataloguing Kira's victims, then you don't belong here," he said shortly.

"Mogi!" Matsuda protested.

"He's right," Aizawa broke in. "We've already learned some very valuable information. Here, look at this." He held up his portion of the list, displaying it for Matsuda to see. "Look at that—most of the criminals who are dying had already been sentenced to death, and were already awaiting execution. And most of those who weren't already sentenced had committed a crime worthy of execution, but had found some way to escape the death penalty."

"Oh, hey, you're right!" Matsuda exclaimed, a dopey grin floating across his face. "I hadn't noticed that!"

L looked away, tuning them out. _That…_ the fact that Kira was targeting the same kinds of criminals as him…was the thing that truly bothered him. Why wasn't Kira killing all criminals as he was supposed to? L could hardly prosecute someone who was doing the same exact thing he was. He needed Kira to be _bad._ He needed to catch him.

_Then again, if Kira is_ good _this time around, then shouldn't I be happy? We could work together._

L repressed a shudder at the thought. There was no way that Kira was good. He was merely hiding his evil behind a layer of good intentions. Soon enough that layer would crack, and Kira would begin offing anyone and everyone who got in his way. It would be just like the story predicted—it would just take a little longer than L had anticipated. Then, finally, once Kira deigned to show his true nature, L could work on either killing him or turning him to his side. He hadn't decided just what to do yet. He supposed that he'd wait until he was certain he knew who Kira was. If he thought he could be redeemed, then he'd let him live to work beside him. If he was beyond saving, then he'd kill him then and there, regardless of what the task force thought of him. Of course, it would be better to kill Kira away from the task force, especially if it ended up being close to one or all of them. He hoped he wouldn't have to spill Kira's blood before their very eyes—but he would do it, if it meant saving himself—and the world, of course. It would be quite unfortunate if he killed Kira and the task force immediately attempted to contact the ICPO to tell them what he'd done. He'd lose his reputation, and no one would ever trust him again.

L reached out, hooking two fingers in the handle of his teacup and bringing it to his lips, humming contentedly as the sugary liquid scalded the back of his throat. _It will be quite a shame,_ he thought, _if I have to kill the task force to prevent them from ruining my career. I would hate very much to bring their lives to an end, but it may become necessary. Anyone who stands in my way in achieving the destruction of Kira—one way or another—must be met with appropriate force. I will not lose to Kira because I refused to kill those who would oppose me._

"Ryuzaki," Watari called, drawing the detective's attention. "I have something I believe you may wish to know about."

"And what is that?" he asked wearily, taking another sip of his tea.

"There have been six new deaths within the past half hour, all occurring within the same prison in this region of Japan."

Hmph. More deaths. "Is there something special about these deaths?" L inquired. "If not, then I fail to see why you're informing me of this."

Watari wordlessly held out a cluster of papers.

L took the papers and scanned them briefly, flipping through them until he'd read each one. Then he glanced up at Watari, dismissing him with a nod. As the inventor turned and walked away, L spun his chair around and announced to the task force, "Please gather around the coffee table. New evidence has just been brought to light."

The task force, after exchanging several tentative glances, obeyed. "What is it?" Soichiro was bold enough to ask.

"Six criminals were killed in the same prison half an hour ago," L explained. "Each of them left behind a suicide note, which I now hold in my hands. After scanning them, I feel that there may be some sort of message intended for me."

"Well then, let's see 'em!" Matsuda exclaimed eagerly. "Come on, Ryuzaki!"

L placed the six notes upon the coffee table and waited for the other detectives to read them.

_ContinuaLly, and in a thousand other ways, did he feel the innumerable throbs of anguish that had been so cunningly contrived for him. And how soon—with what strange rapidity indeed  
—did he arrive at an age that was capable of social intercourse. And what a happiness it would have been—but this could never be. He was born an outcast._

_You speak in riddles, with a  
know ledge of men's hearts that will be needful to the completest solution of the problem._

_I have a sickness—a sore place, if we May so call it—in my spirit which hath immediately its appropriate manifestation in my bodily frame. Would you heal the bodily evil? No—  
not to thee—not to an earthly physician!_

_Who has brought shame upon us all ought to die. Is there not law for it? Truly,  
you know there is, in the Scripture and in the statute-book._

_Think you that there can be no outrage against our common nature than the way  
I shall contrive aught against their lives?_

_Am I the letter in the marketplace? And what imagination would have been irreverent enough to surmise that the same scorching stigma was on them both?_

"This is insane," Soichiro breathed. "These criminals just…wrote these? What do they mean?"

"I'm not entirely certain," L murmured.

"Well, look at the mistakes," Aizawa said. He jabbed a finger at the first note. "The criminal capitalized one of the L's in the word _continually._ Then again, in the third note—the word _may_ is capitalized."

"Maybe they were referring to the month?" Matsuda suggested.

Aizawa shook his head. "No, look at how it's used. It's not supposed to be capitalized."

Mogi broke in, "And look at the format. It's arranged quite unusually. Perhaps that has something to do with it."

"Maybe it's arranged like an acrostic poem!" Matsuda suggested.

"That's ridiculous!" Soichiro snapped. "Matsuda, don't be such an idiot!"

L leaned over the notes, frowning as he examined them closer. "No, wait," he murmured. "Matsuda might not be too far off." He picked up the first note. "All of these are bastardized quotes from _The Scarlet Letter,"_ he noted. "They've chosen bits and pieces of the story to spell out what they want to say. Although as a whole, it doesn't mean much, separately there is much we can infer about these quotes. But we'll leave that for another night—for now, let's just determine the message. If it is arranged as an acrostic poem, as Matsuda so eloquently suggested, then the first letter of every word at the head of a line should work together to spell something."

"Okay, then!" Matsuda exclaimed, looking thrilled to have his idea taken seriously. "So it's _continually did you know I not who you think I am."_

"That doesn't make much sense," Aizawa pointed out. "The words _continually_ and _I_ don't fit with the rest of the sentence."

"It makes _some_ sense," Matsuda protested. "It's just those two words that are the problem!"

"No matter how close it is, it's still incorrect," Soichiro said shortly. "It's just a coincidence."

L leaned forward, and immediately all voices fell silent. It _was_ close…but those two words ruined it. "Continually contains a capital L," he murmured. "Normally I would attribute it to a mere mistake, but…I can't help but feel that it's my name."

"L, did you know…" Soichiro began, "I not who you think I am. It still doesn't make sense."

"No…" L murmured, eyes going wide. "Not I— _I'm._ Look at the third note. The M in _may_ is capitalized too. Keeping with the theme of the other irregularly capitalized word, then that suggests that the M is significant."

"Oh! I get it!" A foolish grin spread across Matsuda's face as he spoke. "So when you put it all together, it's—"

"L, did you know? I'm not who you think I am."

Excited glances were exchanged among the task force members. "It works," Matsuda whispered. "It really works! Kira left us a message!"

"But what do the notes _mean?"_ Soichiro questioned. "You found the message, but the notes themselves still have to be examined. They could hold some double meaning that we don't understand."

"I couldn't agree more," L commented softly. "I will examine them tomorrow while you uphold your normal jobs. But for now, I would ask that you leave. We've done enough for today, and I wish to examine these notes further."

"Let's examine them now!" Matsuda suggested. "We have time before we have to leave!"

"Matsuda," Soichiro snapped, "it's nearly three in the morning. L is right, we should head home. Most of us here have families that we haven't been able to see in days."

_Ah,_ L thought. _Your family. The family that contains a possible mass murderer._ "Please," L said, keeping a straight face, "take your leave. I will be fine here."

And although it was hesitant, Matsuda responded, "Okay, then…see you tomorrow, Ryuzaki. We're meeting in room seventy, right?"

"That is correct."

"Okay then…bye!" Matsuda, a silly grin still on his face, rose from his seat, gathered his papers, and was swiftly out of L's sight. Soichiro followed a few moments later, followed soon by Aizawa and Mogi.

And once they were all gone, L got right down to business.

He got to his feet and walked back to the window he'd spent so much time gazing out of the day before. He retrieved his phone from his pocket. He dialed an unfamiliar number.

It rang twice. Then it was picked up, and a groggy voice croaked out a hoarse greeting.

"Light?" L questioned. "Yes, I _know_ what time it is—I'm _sorry_ I'm calling so late—well, actually, it's more early than late at this point—I said I was sorry!" He paused, allowing the teen on the other end of the line to scream at him for a moment. "Yes, yes, I know… _I said I was sorry!_ "

The voice rasped out a furious inquiry.

"Why am I calling?" L repeated. "Well, you see, there have been some developments in the case involving the heart attacks—yes, the Kira case, the one I was telling you about at school—and I wanted to meet with you to discuss it." More irritated words. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at school. Is that okay? Wait, don't answer that—I don't actually care. I'll pick you up tomorrow. Goodnight, Light."

L hung up on the teen, who was still attempting to tell him off in a rather raised voice. He allowed himself a moment of amusement at the thought of dragging Light out of school by the hair in order to question him. He was looking forward to seeing him again.

Wait—scratch that. He was _not_ looking forward to seeing the brat again. _Not._

L stared out the window. "L, did you know?" he whispered, his breath fogging the glass. "I'm not who you think I am." He wiped the condensation from the window with the sleeve of his shirt, gazing out at the city below.

_We'll see about that, Light. We'll see._


	8. The Chariot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be able to build up the dynamic between L and Light! Their interactions are the best part of this story for me. 
> 
> As usual, thanks for all the support!

Light was sleeping.

The key word being _was,_ of course.

Because now he was no longer sleeping, but jerking up in bed as his phone went off rather noisily beside him. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes and glancing at his alarm clock. _Three in the morning? Who the hell is calling me at this hour?_ He let out an irritated huff as he stretched his arm out, gripping his phone and bringing it up so he could read the caller ID. He blinked harshly as the light blinded him temporarily—but when his eyes adjusted, and he could finally make out the words, he was greeted with an unfamiliar sight: _unknown caller._

What? Who would be calling him not only in the middle of the night, but also with an unknown number? Light hit the answer button groggily, glancing around the room to make sure that Ryuk was gone.

"H…hello?" he yawned.

_"Ah, Light. I was hoping you'd be awake."_

Oh, dear god…Light knew that voice. How could he forget? "Ryuzaki?" he rasped. "Is that you?"

_"Who else would be calling you like this?"_

"God, Ryuzaki, you make it sound so weird. And do you have any idea what time it is?"

_"Yes, of course I know what time it is. Is that a problem?"_

"Ryuzaki, it's three in the morning! Why the hell are you calling me at this time?"

_"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"_

"Of course you woke me, you bastard! Just what the hell were you thinking by calling me this early? What if my parents hear me talking to someone?"

_"Your mother should be fast asleep by this hour, and your father has just departed from work. So long as this conversation is kept short, he will not interfere."_

"How do you know my dad just left work—no, wait—you said you worked with him, right?"

_"That is correct._

"So then, care to tell me what you're doing phoning me at three in the morning?"

_"Quite frankly, I couldn't wait to hear your voice again. Do I need another reason?"_

"Very funny," Light scoffed. "Do you want to tell me the _real_ reason, or will I have to beat it out of you?"

_"I'm sure you've already guessed the reason, Light. After all, you did see the way L confronted Kira earlier, right?"_

"Of course I did. What's your point?"

_"I already told you that I was investigating the Kira Case, Light—though it didn't have that name when I spoke to you last. A lot can change in two days, it seems. But that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that the investigation has grown in leaps and bounds this past day, and certain evidence has come to light that leads me to want to speak with you as soon as possible."_

"So that's what this is about? You seriously woke me up at this hour to talk about the Kira Case, of all things?"

_"Well, yes, I—"_

After that, the conversation largely degraded into yelling.

_"I said I was sorry!"_ Ryuzaki said at last, as a way of placating the teen. _If you would just relax, then perhaps we could end this entirely unpleasant conversation!"_

"It wouldn't be unpleasant if you'd just refrain from calling me at three in the morning!" Light screeched. He was fully awake now, and had been for the past several minutes.

_"Look, I don't have time to speak with you anymore. How about this—since you refuse to speak rationally, I'll cease this call and allow you to cool your head. But seeing as I still wish to speak with you regarding the Kira Case, I_ will _have to find another time to do so."_

"Well, I don't care what you do—just don't call me like this anymore!"

_"Very well. If that is how you feel, then I will endeavor to pick you up at school tomorrow. Be prepared to answer my questions then."_

"What? Wait, Ryuzaki, that's not what I—"

_"Farewell, Light. I will speak with you tomorrow."_

And just like that, before Light had a chance to protest, Ryuzaki hung up on him. The phone clattered to the bedside table, slipping from Light's fingers, and the next moment those fingers were twining in his hair, tugging harshly in frustration. _That bastard…calling me at this hour and_ informing _me that he'll be effectively kidnapping me during school tomorrow…how am I supposed to sleep after that?_

Light lay back on the bed, sighing deeply. His arms crossed behind his head as a pillow, and he found himself tracing the movement of the ceiling fan with his eyes. He'd be getting no rest, that was certain.

At least, not so long as he knew there would be a dark-haired detective waiting at school the following day, ready to snatch him away.

†††

The next morning was a nightmare. Light, having not slept a wink after Ryuzaki's phone call, stumbled out of bed ten minutes late and fell flat on his face.

"Oh…" he groaned painfully, casting an exhausted gaze back, only to find that his leg was tangled in his sheets. He tugged once, twice—and then he was free to stand, albeit shakily, and make his way to his closet. He picked out an outfit and set it upon the bed, carefully selecting a red tie to go along with the black shirt he'd picked out. Then he headed into the bathroom, fixed his hair, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and dressed himself—all in about ten minutes, which was a record for him. He dashed down the stairs, snatched his bag, and visited the kitchen just long enough to say goodbye to Sachiko.

"No breakfast?" she called after him as he departed.

"No," he called back as he ran his hands down his shirt, making sure no wrinkles were present. "I'll grab something at school before class!" And then he was gone, ignoring Sachiko's protests. He made it to school in record time despite his mental unpreparedness and physical sluggishness. Once there, he was swift to duck into his first period class, surrounding himself with other students in an attempt to use them as a barrier in between Ryuzaki and himself. With any luck, the socially inept detective would be intimidated by the abundance of students surrounding him. But Light doubted it. All throughout class, Light's stomach was twisted in nervousness. He didn't want to deal with Ryuzaki. He didn't want to worry about a detective, not when he already had such a large task at hand. Especially not so soon after he'd used those criminals to send a message.

_L, do you know? I'm not who you think I am._

Light could only assume that that message was one of the developments Ryuzaki wanted to talk to him about. His stomach flipped at the thought of it. But all he could do was sit and wait for Ryuzaki to pop out of nowhere and abduct him.

First period passed without incident. It should have made him feel better, but all it did was raise his awareness that Ryuzaki was likely to act in the middle of second period. He drew his so-called friends close, forming a shell around himself, and silently begged the detective to leave him alone. He didn't want to act hospitable at the moment—all he wanted to do was sleep.

Second period came and went without incident. Light felt more and more nervous.

Third period arrived.

Light seated himself in the back of the room and drew his fellow students around him, creating idle conversation in hopes of distracting himself. It didn't work—they were too dull-minded, and the conversations they spawned were uninteresting and bland. _How boring…_

It was then, while sitting in a ring of his friends, that Light realized he wanted to talk to another genius. But not Ryuzaki. Never Ryuzaki. He didn't want to talk about Kira. He wanted to talk about something interesting, something deeper. He did _not_ want to talk about how Mrs. Fujioka's outfit on Friday had been positively _scandalous,_ or about the way that cheerleader had broken up with one of the players on the lacrosse team. Hell, he'd settle for talking to _Ryuk_ at this point, had the shinigami not mysteriously vanished for the day.

And then, as if in answer to Light's bored plea, the door opened, and someone walked in. The teacher immediately paused, surprised to be interrupted in the middle of a lesson, and even more surprised to see just who was doing the interrupting.

The person looked just like Light remembered him. White shirt, baggy jeans, no shoes. Dark bags under the eyes. Messy hair. "Hello there," he said, addressing the teacher. "I apologize for the interruption, but I'll be taking one of your students now."

The teacher stared, obviously trying to figure out whether or not the person was being serious. "I'm sorry…" he said slowly, "but who are you?"

"Just a friend of Light's," came the response. "I think you'll find, if you check your email, that the principal has sent you a message informing you that Light will be checking out early today."

The teacher moved from the podium to his computer, and while he began to scroll through messages, the person shuffled awkwardly towards the back of the classroom, where Light was waiting.

"That's that guy who pushed you into the fountain!" Takada hissed quietly into Light's ear, as the rest of the group surrounding him began chatting excitedly. "What is he doing back here so soon? It's only been two days since he assaulted you!"

"I told you, it wasn't like that," Light hissed back.

"Seriously though," said another student whose name Light couldn't remember at the moment. "He looks so weird! And he's walking right towards us!"

"He's here for me," Light muttered, but no one heard him.

And then the person—Ryuzaki, of course—stopped walking. He was a mere foot away from the outermost person in Light's group. "Light," he greeted. "I see that you have attempted to surround yourself with a shell of idiocy."

Light almost laughed. Almost. _Come on, be nice to him. You said you were going to change and act civilly, so do it!_

"Hey!" Takada snapped, speaking before Light had a chance to. "You can't just walk up here and insult us, especially not after what you did to Light the last time you saw him!"

Ryuzaki stared at her blankly. He clearly wasn't used to being challenged. "Pushing someone into a fountain is hardly cause to ban them from seeing that someone for the rest of their natural life."

"It doesn't matter!" Takada exclaimed protectively. "Light is my friend, and you're not just going to take him out of class!"

Ryuzaki craned his neck, staring at the ceiling as if it were far more interesting than upholding conversation with those sitting right in front of him. "I think that's for Light to decide, don't you?"

Takada glared at Light accusingly. "You're not seriously going with him, are you?"

Light knew he didn't have much of a choice. One way or another, Ryuzaki would find a way to get to him. He shot her an apologetic look and opened his mouth to say goodbye—but before he could, Ryuzaki spoke again.

"Besides," the detective murmured, "I believe you'll find that Light much prefers my company. After all, _you_ aren't a genius like _me."_

"Ryuzaki!" Light burst out, horrified. "Stop that at once! You can't just go around insulting my friends!"

Ryuzaki didn't look at him. "Really, Light?" he responded flatly. "Your friends? Coming from someone like you—like _me_ —that seems a bit strained."

Light stared openly for a few moments. Then he turned back to Takada, who was staring at Ryuzaki, mouth hanging open. "Sorry," he apologized, "but I have to go."

"Light—!" Takada protested.

Light didn't listen. Instead, he rose, gathered his things, and pushed his way out of the protective 'shell of idiocy,' as Ryuzaki had put it. And then he was standing there in front of the detective, unprotected by inferior beings for the first time that day, and it felt…strangely _good._ He was staring into eyes that held life, that held _intelligence,_ for the first time in…well, admittedly, it had only been two days—but after eighteen years of lackluster interactions with other humans…two days felt like forever.

"Shall we?" Ryuzaki asked flatly, eyes betraying his amusement. He held out a hand.

"Yeah, let's get out of here." Light brushed past him, refusing the hand. He was determined to act nice, but not _that_ nice. He didn't look back at Ryuzaki, but he heard his footsteps, slow and drawn out, shuffling behind him.

"Ah…Light? You're free to go," the teacher announced from his computer. "I've just received the email releasing you from class."

Perfect. Light took a deep, shuddering breath, releasing it slowly as he offered his teacher a polite nod. Then he exited the classroom, ignoring all the curious murmurs that followed as Ryuzaki trailed behind.

The door to the classroom closed ominously, leaving the two geniuses in silence.

Then, "You pushed me into a fountain."

"You were acting impertinent. I had no choice but to bring you down a few thousand pegs."

"I'm—"

"I know you're upset. You don't have to say it."

"—sorry."

Ryuzaki blanched, staring at the teen blankly. "What was that?"

"I told you I was sorry," Light murmured. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but they were necessary. "I was acting like an ass. I'm not sure what came over me."

The detective stared for a moment longer before responding. "I didn't take you as the type to apologize, Light. Is something wrong, that you suddenly have the desire to befriend me?"

_That bastard! What is he insinuating? He suspects me, I knew it—and he thinks I'm trying to get close to him to prove my innocence!_ Light flinched. _He's not too far off, actually…_ "Of course not, Ryuzaki," he said smoothly. I know it may be hard to believe, but I normally don't act like I'm god's gift to humanity."

Ryuzaki smiled, though it was small. "I'm sure you don't. I just caught you on a bad day, no?"

"Yeah, that's it. A bad day…"

Ryuzaki nudged him, urging him to begin walking towards the exit of the school. "We should be going," he said in explanation. "We have much to discuss, and I don't wish to waste your time with petty conversation."

Light wanted very much to tell him that this was the first dose of engaging 'petty conversation' he'd encountered in days, but Ryuzaki was already pulling ahead of him, so he didn't have the chance. He jogged to catch up to him, slowing to a walk when he reached his side. "Where are we going?"

"There's a café near here that sells delicious pastries. We'll talk there." Ryuzaki, having reached the curb outside the school in record time, paused in front of a black limo. Then he reached out and opened the door, motioning for Light to get inside.

Light hesitated, completely unwilling to believe that someone who looked so strange had funds sufficient enough to randomly rent a limo for a mere conversation between acquaintances. "My parents have always taught me to avoid getting into cars with strangers," he joked weakly, attempting to mask his nervousness. "Besides, what proof do I have that you're actually who you say you are? Who's to say that you're not going to cart me off and have me killed?"

Ryuzaki laughed—actually laughed, and said, "Light, if you had even the slightest suspicion that I wasn't who I said I was, then you would never have allowed me to drag you out of class. You're smarter than that. And _I'm_ smarter than that—smart enough to know that attempting to kidnap the son of the chief of the NPA would only end in disaster."

He was right, of course. He hadn't been wrong yet. And so Light, without another word, ducked into the limo and seated himself near the far window. Ryuzaki followed shortly after, closing the door behind him. "Watari," he called to the front seat. "Please drive us to the aforementioned destination."

The older man in the driver's seat—presumably called Watari—nodded, and the next moment the engine was starting, and the limo was beginning to lurch down the road. Light, despite his earlier assurance that he was not, in fact, being driven to his death, was beginning to feel horrifyingly nervous. It didn't help when Ryuzaki, seemingly unaware of social custom, seated himself right next to him without hesitation.

"Ah…Ryuzaki?" Light said.

"Hmm? Is something wrong?"

"You…you're kind of… _sitting_ on me, you know."

"I am not sitting on you—I am not even touching you. I am sitting next to you, as you know. There is no need to exaggerate."

"Right…but could you, you know…move over?"

He looked puzzled, and Light began to wonder if this strange man had _any_ sense of normal social behavior. "If that is what you wish." He moved over an inch, and seemed content to stay there. Light decided to drop it; it was obvious that he had no idea how to behave. He inched away slightly.

"Is there a reason you're so eager to avoid me, Light? Do you have something to hide?"

"No! Damn it, Ryuzaki, you can't use every little thing to suggest that I'm hiding something! Just because I don't want to feel you breathing down my neck doesn't mean I'm hiding anything!" Ryuzaki frowned deeply, and Light immediately flinched. _So much for being nice…_

"So touchy. You wound me."

He didn't look offended in the slightest, which was good, because Light was in no mood to apologize. "Just forget about it, Ryuzaki. You clearly have no idea how to behave in social situations."

The detective's eyes widened, then fell back into their normal expressionless sheen. "Well, I suppose you're right there, Light. I'm not much of a social person. But then again, neither are you."

"What?" he spluttered. "I'm perfectly sociable!"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Ryuzaki responded in a lackluster tone. "You are not sociable. You pretend to like those around you because you have no other choice, when in reality you are less than entertained by their dull conversations."

He was right, of course. Again. "Ryuzaki…how—?"

"You forget that I am like you," came the answer. "I am a genius. I was the same way, you know—I used to pretend. But that was then and this is now—and I find it much easier to behave as I wish to behave instead of catering to those below me. You should try it. It's quite effective."

It…it sounded good. To not have to filter his words because those around him wouldn't understand…to be able to speak his mind without fear of being singled out in a negative light…it sounded beautiful. "And if I did try it? What then? Would I be shunned as you are?"

Another deep frown. "Once again, your words are sharper than the deadliest knife," he murmured. "But yes…I suppose you would be shunned."

"In that case, I must decline. I'm not like you—I can't just go off solving cases for the NPA without a care in the world. I have to stay in school, get good grades, maintain a decent reputation, and keep up the golden boy persona."

"You could be like me," Ryuzaki suggested in a low murmur, and for a moment Light was unsure he'd heard correctly.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Oh, look at that—we're here!" Ryuzaki was out of the limo before Light could react, holding open the door eagerly. "Come on, Light, hurry up!"

Light shook his head in disbelief, following his strange companion. Ryuzaki closed the door behind him, and a moment later the limo was chugging away, no doubt to find the longest parking space in all of existence.

"Shall we?" Ryuzaki asked, echoing his earlier words. And once again, there was that hand, extended in his direction as if he wanted to hold hands like a newlywed couple—and once again, Light nodded politely and brushed the hand off.

Ryuzaki didn't appear pleased. "You're very adverse to me," he commented. "Could it be that you don't like me much?"

"Of course I like you," Light said quickly. "I'm just not used to touching complete strangers. You'll have to forgive me for that."

Ryuzaki looked away, almost appearing genuinely offended. For a moment Light was concerned, and a spike of guilt shot through his chest—but the next heartbeat he was scolding himself, telling himself off for feeling that way, and he was moving into the café ahead of Ryuzaki.

"Oh…" Light said aloud, looking around for the first time. "This…"

"Is it not to your liking?" Ryuzaki questioned. "If it is not, then I will have us driven to a new location."

"No, that's not it, it's just…"

"Excellent," Ryuzaki commented, taking Light by the arm and dragging him further into the café. "There's a pleasant booth in the back that's perfectly secluded. No one will even know we're here—other than the staff, of course. And what's more, no one will be able to overhear what we're saying. It's perfect for discussing things of a rather sensitive nature, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, Ryuzaki," Light said quietly. "It is." And he would know—for this was the café that _he_ always went to. This was the booth that _he_ always sat in. How did Ryuzaki know about it? Was this a subtle jab at him? After all, this was where he'd first opened the Death Note to truly examine it. It had been here, in the very booth Ryuzaki was currently pushing him into.

Once they were seated, it wasn't long until a waitress came flouncing over to take their order.

"Just coffee," Light said when the waitress inquired as to his beverage of choice. "No sugar."

Ryuzaki took a moment to stare at him as if he were insane before requesting, "Please bring me one of each of your pastries."

The waitress stared. "You're kidding."

"I am not kidding."

And he wasn't. He was dead serious, the bastard.

"Also, bring me a cup of English breakfast tea."

"Well…okay," the waitress said uncertainly. "How much sugar do you take?"

Ryuzaki frowned, pressing a thumb to his lips. "Hmm…please bring me an entire bowl."

The waitress sputtered out something about that being impossible—but faced with Ryuzaki's death glare, she soon turned and skittered away to fulfill the order. And, once again, they were left alone.

"You're insane," Light murmured, breaking the silence. "No one can eat that much sugar and live. You're going to have a heart attack, Ryuzaki. And not a Kira related one, either."

"You think so?" the detective murmured, drawing his knees up against his chest.

Light frowned. "Hey…you keep sitting like that. In class, that's the only way you would sit. And now you're doing it again. Is that _normal_ for you?"

"Forty percent."

"Ah…pardon?"

"Forty percent, Light. That's how much my deductive abilities drop when I don't sit like this. The same goes for the sugar—thought the percentage is more around fifty-five percent there, admittedly."

"I see." _What a strange man. What was the NPA thinking, hiring someone like this?_

"So, Light, shall we get down to business? If we don't start now, we'll be here far into the night."

"Oh…of course. Let's begin, then. What did you want to talk about?"

Ryuzaki frowned. "Well, there's quite a lot. Let's see…we could talk about the confrontation between Kira and L, I could commence with the testing of your deductive ability, we could discuss the specifics of the new evidence that has suddenly appeared, we could converse over the details of your personal life… Why don't you pick, Light?"

He stared, overwhelmed. He wanted to talk about all of that in one session? But, if he had to pick… "Let's start easy, then. As me whatever you want about my personal life. You're profiling me, right? Go for it." _I can't say anything that connects me to Kira. I have to be careful._

"Very well. We will start easy, as you say." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Tell me your name."

"What? You know my name, Ryuzaki. It's Light. Light Yagami."

"And the names of your family members and their relation to you?"

Light leaned back in an attempt to escape Ryuzaki's scrutinizing gaze. "Well, I have a younger sister named Sayu, my mother is named Sachiko, and my father is named Soichiro."

"And what do they do for a living?"

"My mother stays at home and takes care of the house and my father is a police officer. You know this, Ryuzaki. Why are you asking these things?"

He ignored him, much to Light's irritation. "Would you say you got your sense of justice from your father?"

Ah. There it was. The big guns were coming out, and they were aimed right at Light's head. "I don't know," he answered smoothly. "Most likely, yes. Most children are influenced by their parents, after all."

"Would you describe that sense of justice for me, please?"

_You won't catch me this way, Ryuzaki. You should stop trying._ "It's as the law says. If you commit a crime, you should be tried and given an appropriate punishment."

"What kind of punishment?"

"Depends on the crime and the circumstances. Obviously you can't just start executing people because they stole something minor, or committed a crime barely worthy of mention. But if they murdered someone, or did something atrocious…then they deserve the death sentence, which is what they will ultimately receive."

"So then, you agree with the death sentence? You believe it should be carried out?"

"Of course I do," Light responded calmly. _Calm down…saying you agree with the death sentence doesn't condemn you. It's a commonly held opinion._ "So long as the criminal is most certainly guilty, and so long as he has been legally sentenced, then said sentence should be carried out."

Ryuzaki smiled a very small smile. "How interesting. So, then, would it be safe to say that you agree with Kira's methods of killing?"

"Ryuzaki…" Light murmured, pausing as the waitress swept by the table to drop off the requested drinks, explaining in a flustered tone that the pastries wouldn't be out for a few more minutes. Only when she slipped back into the kitchen did Light feel ready to continue. "Ryuzaki," he said again, "I agree with Kira completely."

The detective's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Clearly he hadn't been expecting Light's blunt response. "You agree with him?" he asked, as if he didn't quite believe it.

"I do." Light reached for his coffee, taking a sip and reveling in the stunned expression on his companion's face. _This, Ryuzaki, is where I will catch you. No doubt you will wish to argue semantics, which will lead to the discussion of the fact that Kira has only been killing criminals who were already sentenced to death. Then I can make you see that I am doing the right thing. It's a bold move, but still…it must be done. I'm certain that you think that your Kira suspect would never come out and say that he agrees with the killings._

Ryuzaki was still staring. "Light," he burst out, "you _do_ realize that I suspect you, correct?"

There it was. It had never been explicitly stated, but Light had always known it was there. Ryuzaki was tracking Kira, and he suspected him. He wasn't sure what he'd done to arouse suspicion—other than his blatant display of arrogant intelligence—but he had to slip free as soon as possible if he wanted to live. "I suspected as much," he responded belatedly. "That's why I'm going to be as honest as I can with you, Ryuzaki." He took another sip of his coffee. "Lying to you will only make me look suspicious. So I'll tell you the truth: I completely agree with what Kira is doing."

"How so?" Ryuzaki asked immediately. A few sugar cubes were clutched between his fingers, held out over his tea, but they had yet to enter the scalding liquid.

"Well, look at the facts. I've been investigating Kira on my own time, you see, so I know—as I'm sure you know—that he has only been targeting those who have already been sentenced to death. He's carrying out the sentence that has already been approved by the justice system. So, he's not really doing the judging himself. He's just going off of what the system has already decided. Don't you think that's ethically correct, Ryuzaki?"

The detective immediately looked away. "Kira is not just targeting those awaiting execution," he murmured, dropping a handful of sugar cubes into his tea and stirring violently. Drops of liquid splashed to the table below, but he didn't seem to notice. "He is also killing those who have committed crimes worthy of the death sentence, but who have not legally received said sentence."

"Yes." Light glanced up, briefly raking his eyes along his companion's frame. He was still hunched over, eyes locked on his tea. "I noticed that as well. But still, don't you think that those people deserve what they got? They committed crimes worthy of execution, and found some way of worming their way out of the punishment. Isn't it right for Kira to get rid of them? It's no different than a revisiting an old case and changing the sentence."

Ryuzaki took a large gulp of tea. Paused. Added another handful of sugar cubes. He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable in his seat, and muttered, "That is all good and well, but I have reason to believe that Kira will soon begin targeting all criminals, not just the ones who deserve death."

Light blinked, surprised, and immediately jerked his head down to avoid Ryuzaki's gaze. _Ryuzaki…just implied that some criminals deserve to die. And he didn't say that he disagreed with Kira's ways of killing. Could it be that he_ agrees _with me? But no—he said that he thinks Kira is going to start killing criminals at random and without reason. That…that sounds like the Kira in the story written in the Death Note. But why would Ryuzaki suspect something like that? I've done nothing to suggest that that's the path I'm heading down._ "Would you care to explain why you think that?" Light said at last, choosing his words carefully.

And once again, a flash of unreadable emotion flickered across Ryuzaki's face. "There's no particular reason," he murmured. "It's just intuition from years of working as a detective. If I were to offer any sort of explanation, it would most likely involve the fact that I believe Kira to be very self-righteous, and very prideful. With an attitude like that, soon he'll develop a god complex and decide that killing criminals awaiting execution isn't enough. He'll snap, and he'll begin killing those who are in jail for petty crimes. And once he starts, he won't stop. It will be a downwards spiral, fueled by prideful arrogance. He'll hit free fall, so to speak, and he won't be able to expand his godly wings to stop himself from splattering on impact."

_Is that what you think will happen to me? You think I'll become like the original Kira? You think I'll start offing people as I choose?_ Light had to admit to a certain feeling of sorrow because of Ryuzaki's morbid description of his demise. The detective truly didn't understand him. "I see what you mean. And so that's why you want to catch him? To stop him from hitting free fall, as you put it?"

Ryuzaki nodded shortly, drawing another mouthful of tea from his cup. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I will find Kira before he falls, and I will save him."

"Save? You intend to save him? Ryuzaki, I thought you wanted to kill Kira. You think he's evil, after all."

"Hmm?" Ryuzaki didn't appear to be paying attention anymore. "Oh…yes, I suppose I should kill him. Or not. It will all depend upon who Kira is and why he does what he does. Perhaps I will find myself moved by the man behind the monster, and I will decide to keep him."

Light narrowed his eyes. "You make him sound like some sort of pet."

"I suppose that he would be, in effect, a pet. After all, I would be the one making all the decisions for him. I couldn't allow him to run free, after all. Who knows what he might do?"

Light had a sudden image of being bound to Ryuzaki via collar and chain, and he shuddered internally. "If Kira is as vicious as you say he is, then I doubt he would allow himself to be reduced to a submissive creature that hangs on your every command."

"You make it sound so unpleasant," L muttered, swirling his finger around in his teacup. "But I would be quite the benevolent master."

Another shudder. Benevolent or not, Light had no desire to find himself at Ryuzaki's beck and call. He'd rather end up in hell. "We've gotten off track," he said. "You were supposed to be asking questions about my personal life, not talking about how eager you'd be to keep Kira as a pet."

Ryuzaki nodded. "Ah, of course. But if you'd pause for just a moment…" His head shot up eagerly, and a moment later Light found out why as the waitress came dashing back, setting out a massive platter of pastries before the wide-eyed detective. She left without a word, seemingly disgusted by Ryuzaki's choice of foods—and the instant she did, the detective snatched up an éclair and began devouring it with abandon, tiny noises of approval slipping past his lips as he ate.

Light stared in a mixture of fascination and disgust. "Ryuzaki…" he tried. "Are you…?"

"Hm?" He finished the éclair and reached for another pastry, shoving half of it down his gullet at once. "Oh, I apologize—I haven't consumed sweets in approximately five hours, and I find myself quite famished." He finished off the rest of the pastry, licking his fingers with no regard for the person seated across from him.

_God, he's disgusting…why did I agree to this, again?_

"I'm sorry that you find me disgusting, Light. And you agreed to this because you had no other choice. I would have hunted you down one way or another."

…And he'd spoken aloud. Brilliant. He shook his head lightly, saying, "Can we get on with this?"

"Ah, of course. Hm…the next question…" he paused to take a drink of his tea. "I think I've learned enough about your personal life for the time being, so let's move on to something else. How about we discuss the confrontation between L and Kira that took place yesterday?"

Ah, yes…L, the person who had decided to challenge him. The person Light needed to win over. Of course, he _also_ needed to win over Ryuzaki—but that was another matter entirely. "Which part did you want to discuss?"

"Well, I suppose I didn't want to discuss it as much as I wanted to tell you that after all the cameras turned off, Lind L. Tailor died of a heart attack."

"What?" Light gasped. This _was_ a surprise—it had to be one of the other users! He could use that information to track him down; it was the first lead he'd gotten! "Tailor died? That means that Kira accepted L's challenge after all!" _Damn it! This is a lead, but the person that killed Tailor has caused irreparable damage to the connection I'm trying to develop with L! I wasn't going to challenge him, I was going to try to work beside him…but now that one of the other Kiras has challenged L, he'll assume that_ I'm _the one issuing the challenge. He'll think that I'm against him._

"It does indeed." Ryuzaki was working his way through a forth pastry now, having inhaled his third while Light was talking. "And it also means something else, Light. You see, while I announced that it was a worldwide broadcast, L's challenge was only broadcasted in this region of Japan. That means that Kira is in this region. It also proves that he is real, which some have not yet accepted. So, then—I have a location, however broad it may be. I also know that Kira is most likely a student, seeing as his killing patterns occur only in hours when school is not in session."

_He's good…he's already onto me. But if I can reach L first and form an alliance, I'm sure he'll keep Ryuzaki and any other detectives who might wish me harm off my tail._ "You've narrowed down your list of suspects quite a bit." Light leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting his chin upon them. "But there's a problem with that, Ryuzaki."

"And what would that be, Light?"

"Well, to put things frankly, if you're targeting students, then you're targeting a very specific range of students. After all, doing what Kira is doing requires a very acute range of intelligence, which only comes with older students. Therefore, I'd say that you're looking for a student in high school."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Light offered his companion a false smile. "That puts me directly in your line of fire, Ryuzaki. I'm in the perfect place in regards to being a student, and I'm a genius. What's more, I already displayed strong arrogance and pride before you. That makes me a prime suspect, does it not?"

"Unfortunately, yes. That's why I'm here. But you already knew that."

Yes…he had. And now Ryuzaki suspected him more than ever. How the hell was he supposed to sway suspicion from himself when he'd already dug himself into such a deep hole? And unknowingly, at that. How was he supposed to stop things that he wasn't aware were happening?

Ryuzaki set down his teacup. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid that this conversation has taken a rather nasty turn."

"Of course it has," Light muttered, trying—and failing—to hide the hurt that he felt for Ryuzaki's assessment of his character. "You think I'm a mass murderer."

The detective's gaze softened immediately, and for just a moment, Light was almost convinced that Ryuzaki was human instead of some emotionless machine. "I do not want to think that, Light. If it makes you feel any better, if there was a way for me to prove you innocent, I would take it. I do not wish to pursue someone as young as yourself in the name of justice. I would be greatly saddened if you were to face execution for your crimes as Kira."

How comforting.

"However, no matter what my personal wishes may be, I cannot cease my investigation of you until I either prove you to be Kira or prove you innocent."

"I get it, so let's just get on with this," Light grumbled. "I feel like we've been here forever."

"Fine, then." L's hand dipped beneath the table momentarily, and the next moment it reappeared holding a cluster of loose papers. He held one out between two fingers, placing it on the table in front of Light. "Would you please read this for me?"

"Uh…sure." Light's eyes raked over the paper. "Continually, and in a thousand other ways, did he feel the innumerable throbs of anguish that had been so cunningly contrived for him. And how soon—with what strange rapidity indeed—did he arrive at an age that was capable of social intercourse. And what a happiness it would have been—but this could never be. He was born an outcast." _Oh, so this is how he's going to play it? He's going to show me the suicide notes I had the criminals write and ask me to decipher the hint?_ He looked up at Ryuzaki. "What is this?"

"Suicide notes left by criminals killed by Kira," was the murmured response. "I was hoping you would help me go over their meanings."

"I see." Light pushed the note away with a finger. "Well, this is obviously an altered quote from The Scarlet Letter. It seems that Kira is comparing himself to Hester and implying that he feels like a social outcast, unable to find happiness. It makes sense, so long as we're assuming that Kira is a genius. After all, are loneliness and unhappiness not common traits in geniuses?"

L frowned. "You're right. That's what I thought as well. Loneliness and unhappiness…they are, indeed, traits shared by geniuses." He picked up a second piece of paper, pushing it forward. "Read this, please."

Light obeyed. "I have a sickness—a sore place, if we may so call it—in my spirit which hath immediately its appropriate manifestation in my bodily frame. Would you heal the bodily evil? No—not to thee—not to an earthly physician!" He looked up. "This one is a bit trickier. It seems that Kira is suggesting that he feels wounded by his power to kill, and wishes for someone to heal him. This was meant to be a direct message to L, no? Perhaps he's reaching out, asking L to work with him and heal him."

"That suggests that Kira feels remorse for his actions, and believes that although he is killing, it is leaving a deadly wound upon his soul. We have already established that Kira feels no remorse, and believes that killing is righteous and pure. Therefore, the meaning you proposed can't possibly be correct."

"No," Light said immediately, " _you_ decided that Kira would begin to enjoy killing, viewing it as 'righteous and pure,' as you put it, after a few months of killing. However, seeing as those months haven't passed yet, according to your logic, Kira hasn't yet begun to enjoy his killings, and hasn't yet decided that he's an avenging angel. Therefore, when he wrote this, he quite possibly could have felt that killing was leaving a wound of sorts on his soul."

Ryuzaki frowned. He clearly didn't like that. "Very well. I suppose I see your point. Now, Light, please take a look at this one." A third paper was pushed forward.

"Who has brought shame upon us all ought to die. Is there not law for it? Truly, you know there is, in the Scripture and in the statute-book." Ah…Light had been particularly proud of this one when he'd picked it out. "This one is obvious, Ryuzaki. It shouldn't even require explanation." He sloshed the remainder of his coffee around his cup. "Kira is obviously saying that he believes what he's doing is right. He's saying that there are laws pertaining to the execution of criminals, and that he is following those rules."

"Exactly my way of thinking, Light. I'm impressed. Now, the next."

Light read without question. "You speak in riddles, with a knowledge of men's hearts that will be needful to the completest solution of the problem." He frowned, feigning ignorance. "I…I admit, Ryuzaki, this one is a bit strange. I'm not sure I understand. Perhaps…he's suggesting that he has the knowledge of men's hearts, making it easy for him to manipulate them."

Ryuzaki hummed noncommittally, cramming a large chunk of pastry into his mouth. "Actually," he said through a mouthful of food, "I wasn't sure what this one meant either. It's a bit out of place, don't you think? My best guess would be that, like you said, Kira is suggesting that he has a way of manipulating the hearts of others." He took the paper back and handed Light another. "There are two more," he said. "Please tell me what you think about this one first."

Light grasped the paper lightly, reading of, "Think you that there can be no outrage against our common nature than the way I shall contrive aught against their lives?" Ah…this one was a bit more malicious than the rest. He'd chosen it as a warning, to remind L that although he wished to make peace, he would not hesitate to show his fangs if he was threatened. "It's a warning," he explained. "Kira is saying that if L thinks his way of doing things is wrong, then he'll lash out at him. In other words, he won't just roll over and allow himself to be killed. If it comes down to it, he intends to fight." He shot Ryuzaki a satisfied glance, purring out, "So then, Ryuzaki…how does this affect your plan to keep Kira as a pet?"

"It was only a possibility. I didn't say it was a definite plan."

"You're avoiding the question," Light chastised, allowing a teasing grin to overtake his features. "Now, come on—give me the next note."

Ryuzaki held it out without hesitation.

_"_ Am I the letter in the marketplace? And what imagination would have been irreverent enough to surmise that the same scorching stigma was on them both?" And this—the final quote. Light had spent a fair amount of time picking it out. He'd wanted it to be perfect. "I like this one," he murmured, not attempting to hide his satisfaction. " _Am I the letter in the marketplace_ …Kira is effectively asking you, _am_ I _Kira?_ He's making you second guess yourself, suggesting that anyone and everyone _could_ be Kira. And the second half of the quote almost seems to suggest that Kira and L share some terrible burden. _The same stigma was on them both…_ the stigma symbolizing the burden, of course."

"That's a very interesting viewpoint," Ryuzaki said. "The idea of Kira and L sharing something between the both of them is quite intriguing." He stuck a finger into the frosting of one of his remaining pastries and brought it to his lips, sucking the sweet substance from his skin. Light couldn't help but stare, mesmerized and disgusted by the detective's display. "Tell me, Light, is that all you see in the message?"

_So…he's going try to get me to reveal that I know what the secret message is. He's trying to trick me. But he can't prove anything, not even if I can figure out the juvenile puzzle I left him. It would look worse if I didn't solve it, just because he might assume that I'm dumbing myself down to prove my innocence._ _It's better if I solve his little puzzle and play his little game._

"Well," Light began, "first of all, the notes aren't in the right order."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I've read The Scarlet Letter. It's assigned in year one of high school; everyone reads it. And so I recognize the quotes, even if they're altered a bit. And it just so happens that these quotes all come from different parts of the book—and if you arrange them chronologically, then they might spell out a hint, or a clue, or a message from Kira to L that's only meant to be understood by the two of them." Light reached out, taking the pages from Ryuzaki and arranging them correctly. "I suspect that if you arranged these by time of death, they would come up in the same order. Of course, seeing as you haven't provided me with said times, I can't be certain—but I'd say there's a good chance that I'm correct." Light took a moment to read the notes over silently, pretending to think hard about what he was doing before speaking again. "Now, moving on. I'm sure you've noticed that the formatting is strange. The line breaks are out of place, and new paragraphs cut off previous sentences. If I had to take a guess just based on what I'm seeing right now, I'd say that it's formatted like an acrostic poem. Do you have a pen I can use?"

Ryuzaki put down his pastry just long enough to hand Light a rather sticky pen.

Light winced, wiping the frosting residue off with a napkin. "Thanks," he said sarcastically, ignoring Ryuzaki's pointed stare. "Anyways, as I was saying…" He uncapped the pen and marked the first word of every line. "This should be right. But as you can see, it's not. A few words are out of place. But if we use the letters that are randomly capitalized, and add them into the message…" Light made the adjustments swiftly. "And then, if we understand that the word _knowledge_ is written as 'know' and 'ledge,' and if we take just the first half of the word and use it…" More adjustments were made, and Light was suddenly staring at the message he'd hidden for L. "It says, L, do you know? I'm not who you think I am."

Ryuzaki nodded calmly. "Precisely what I was thinking. But one thing bothers me, Light. You said that Kira left these messages. Now, how would he do that? I don't believe I said anything about him being able to control the actions of his victims."

_Nice try, Ryuzaki. You won't catch me that way._ "It's rather obvious, wouldn't you say? I mean, it seems rather unlikely that all of those criminals just so happened to write out quotes from The Scarlet Letter that line up perfectly to spell out a message. And besides, in one of the quotes Kira implies that he can manipulate the hearts of men. I'd say this falls under that category, wouldn't you?" He forced down a sip of his cooling coffee, gazing up at his companion through his lashes. "You shouldn't try to trick people. It's mean."

"Trick? I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play dumb, Ryuzaki. We both know what you were doing—you were attempting to get me to say something that only Kira would know. But since I'm not Kira, it didn't work out too well for you."

The detective's movements had completely ceased. He stared at Light with wide eyes, breathing out, "Amazing…simply amazing."

"What's that?"

"You knew exactly what I was thinking, didn't you, Light? You knew why I was asking you every question, and you knew exactly how to answer every inquiry. The truth is, I can't say for sure whether or not I can realistically suspect you simply because you are too intelligent to fall for my traps. You're using your intellect to make yourself look innocent, when in reality the truth may be just the opposite."

Light crossed his arms, not caring if the gesture made him look petty. "That's insulting, Ryuzaki. Are you suggesting that the best I can do with my intelligence is make myself look innocent?"

"It's not an insult," Ryuzaki responded. "You're just being sensitive."

_Sensitive?_ Light stared openly at his strange companion, who was now working his way through one of the final pastries. "I don't appreciate the suggestion that I'm manipulating you into thinking I'm innocent."

"Well, that's perfectly fine with me," the detective muttered, "seeing as you're not manipulating me. I know exactly how to dance your dance, and I intend to stay one step ahead."

"There is no dance!" Light hissed, irritation flaring through him. "I'm not trying to trick you!"

Ryuzaki raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm yourself, Light. This was intended to be a friendly conversation between companions, not a yelling match."

Light leaned back in his seat, blowing out a harsh breath through his mouth. And then the waitress was back, sweeping across the table and picking up empty mugs and platters (just when had Ryuzaki finished the last pastry? Had he seriously managed to eat the entire pastry menu?) and leaving the bill in her wake.

"I'll get it," Ryuzaki murmured in that low tone of his, reaching out and dumping a wad of crumpled bank notes on top of the bill, not bothering to open or look at it. Then he rose, and that hand was extending again, waiting for Light to comply. "Light," he said, when the teen refused to take his hand. "We need to leave. Your family will be wondering what has happened to their only son."

"What do you mean?" Light asked, bewildered. "School is still in session; you only came and got me during third period. It can't have been that long."

"I think you'll find that we've been talking for far longer than you think," Ryuzaki said in response. "The sun will set in an hour or two, Light."

" _What?_ That's not possible!"

"It's been a few hours. The sun sets early this time of year, after all."

"My mother is going to kill me! And my father will be enraged!"

"Your father isn't going to be home until very late, so I doubt he'll notice. As for your mother, I'm sure you can handle whatever it is she decides to do to you."

Light just stared, completely stunned by Ryuzaki's behavior. "That's easy for you to say," he hissed. "You don't have someone breathing down your neck if you're not home exactly when you're supposed to be!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," L murmured. "I have a caretaker who is quite adamant about maintaining good behavior, as it were."

Light shot him a sideways glance, finding at least a modicum of amusement in the fact that a detective for the NPA was still being bossed around by a caretaker.

Ryuzaki pushed himself out of the booth. "Come with me, Light. We wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting."

And Light, having nothing better to do, followed as Ryuzaki shoved his hands into his pockets, curved his spine, and shuffled his way out of the café. The two of them stood for a moment, side by side, taking in the outside world. It was strange…while they'd been in the café, Light had almost forgotten that an outside world existed. His entire world had consisted of him, Ryuzaki, and their conversation. It was an ethereal feeling, finding someone capable of entertaining him for more than a few minutes. His boredom had just…washed away. It was just like when he was using the Death Note, but greater—for unlike when he was using the Death Note, there were no lulls in conversation with Ryuzaki, no pauses as he tried to figure out what to do next. He wondered vaguely if Ryuzaki felt the same, and if he felt equally uninterested in those around him. Had he eased the detective's boredom?

Ryuzaki cleared his throat, and Light realized suddenly that he'd been staring. "We should go," he said simply. "Watari is waiting for us." He swept an arm outwards, gesturing broadly to the limo, which was parked on the curb across the street. As if on cue, the limo's engine purred to life, and a moment later it was maneuvering around traffic to pull up directly in front of the café.

Light nodded, dragging his eyes away from his companion. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"You should be careful with that," Ryuzaki said sarcastically, opening the door of the limo. "You'll just get yourself into trouble that way." He paused long enough for Light to slip into the vehicle before following close behind. This time the detective seated himself close, but not as uncomfortably close as before. Light wondered, amused, if he'd managed to teach the detective _one_ thing, at least, about social interaction.

The drive passed in record time, and before Light knew it, Ryuzaki was calling, "Watari, stop here."

"Certainly, sir." The limo drew to a halt, and the two geniuses were suddenly standing on the sidewalk.

Light looked around, thoroughly puzzled. "This isn't my house, Ryuzaki. You should know that, seeing as you've obviously researched me extensively."

The detective shoved both hands back into his pockets, staring at Light through a curtain of raven hair. "Yes, I know," he said. "But this way is nicer, don't you think?" He stepped off the sidewalk. "Are you coming?"

Light glanced at Ryuzaki, then at the world around them. He was immediately suspicious—why would Ryuzaki take him here, of all places?

The detective turned away. "Are you afraid of the forest?" he asked quietly.

"No," Light responded, craning his neck to stare up at the trees that suddenly seemed so abundant. He recognized this place, of course—he'd played there as a child. His mother had told him countless times to avoid the forest behind his house, telling scary stories of wolves and giant spiders to keep him away. It had never worked, though, and Light had eventually found his way to every inch of that forest.

"You don't need to be afraid. We'll only be in the forest for a few minutes—"

"Yes, I know," Light whispered, still staring up at the trees. "This forest is very small, and it's surrounded by homes and other such buildings. It's the only green patch for miles around, untouched by human hands. For example, take a look at the footpath. There's one leading from here to the other side of the forest, and it's completely unpaved. Then, if you go in several feet, there's another footpath that branches off. It leads directly to my house. We're not that far away; it should only take a few minutes to get there. But still…why couldn't you have just driven us the rest of the way? It's rather pointless to take a random trip into the forest, don't you think? Unless, of course, you're some sort of murderer who plans to carry out his plan of killing me away from the public eye."

Ryuzaki hummed noncommittally. "We've already been over this, Light. I am not a murderer, nor do I wish you harm—unless, of course, it turns out that my suspicions about you being Kira are correct. As for why I decided to take a detour…" he trailed off, setting his bare feet on the dusty path. "Well, I suppose you could say that I'm prolonging the inevitable."

"What are you so worried about? What could possibly be so bad that you would wish to avoid it by trekking through the forest with bare feet?" Light stepped off the sidewalk and over the railing that separated the edge of the forest from the civilized world. His feet left powdery prints in the dirt, flecks of the filthy substance flying up into the stale twilight air. His shoes, so perfectly shined, were immediately coated in a layer of grit.

Ryuzaki ducked the subject. "This forest is very peaceful, don't you think?" He went on ahead, form darkening as he stepped into the shadows. He began walking, and for the second time that day, Light had to jog to catch up.

"Of course it is, Ryuzaki. That's why I used to like coming here so much." Despite himself, Light felt a surge of nostalgia as he set his feet on the path leading to his home. _I used to come here whenever I got sick of dealing with everyone around me. There's a little clearing in the middle of the forest, but we're far away from it now. This place is an escape. It's the closest thing I've found to a safe haven._

"You're very bored, aren't you, Light?"

Light paused, seeing that Ryuzaki had stopped ahead of him. The sun, so close to setting, cast the detective in a dark glow, spreading his shadow out across the earth. "What do you mean, Ryuzaki?"

"You know what I mean." He turned his head, regarding the teen through one eye. "You're like me, so you understand the boredom. You've felt it. Perhaps you felt it today when you were speaking to me, though I hope that's not the case."

"No," Light said at once, because hadn't he just been thinking that Ryuzaki was the first person to be able to entertain him in years? "I wasn't bored. I enjoyed our talk, even if you spent the whole of it trying to accuse me of being Kira."

Ryuzaki immediately turned away. "Yes," he agreed softly. He paused, almost as if there were words dangling on the tip of his tongue. But the moment was gone before it had a chance to really begin, and the next moment Ryuzaki was muttering, "Come on, Light. Let's get you home. Your mother will be upset if you're gone any longer. She'll think you've found a girlfriend, or something equally horrendous." The detective continued walking, seemingly unaware of the strange nature of his comment.

Light chased after him. _He's so strange…what kind of person just drags someone else out into the middle of a forest and says such things? He must be insane. Almost as insane as the NPA for hiring him._

…Come to think of it, Ryuzaki had never actually said he was part of the NPA. He'd never denied it, but he'd never accepted it. Was it possible that he was an outside force, stepping in to work with his father? Hmm…Light felt that he'd brushed upon an important revelation, but before he could pursue it further, Ryuzaki was talking again.

"Light, we're here." He stopped, gesturing to the land beyond his fingertips. And indeed, they were there. They were standing at the edge of the forest after what felt like an incredibly short journey. Oh…what a shame. He'd almost hoped that he would get to talk to Ryuzaki longer. Even if he was dead set on accusing him, he was still the most intelligent person he'd met in, well…his entire life.

"So we are." Light moved to pass Ryuzaki, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Ryuzaki?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "What's wrong?"

"Oh…nothing's wrong, Light. I was just going to tell you, before you return to your mundane existence, that I'd very much like to return to speak to you about the Kira case again."

"Oh, right," Light scoffed. "Because I'm Kira, right?"

Ryuzaki frowned. "No, because you are Light, and you don't belong in that wretched high school of yours."

The teen's interest was immediately piqued. "And where do you think I belong?"

"Hmm…" he trailed off, pressing a thumb to his lips. "Perhaps you belong in the forest, like me."

"A metaphor, Ryuzaki?"

He smirked. "Perhaps. In any case, I do believe I will be stopping by again. Please be prepared to be taken out of class at any moment and for any reason. I will be seeing you soon." He stepped aside silently.

"Yeah…" Light responded belatedly. "I'll see you around, Ryuzaki." He stepped forward, brushing past the detective.

A moment later, when Light looked back, Ryuzaki was gone.


	9. Nauthiz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a very big fan of this chapter. I don't really know why, it just feels kinda flat. In any case, though, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks for the support!

L had always been a master of justifying his actions. It was a skill he'd learned early on—he'd had to, if he wished to sleep at night after some of the things he'd been forced to do over his long career as a detective.

Why did he go against the law in taking Kou from the NPA's custody? Because he was the only one who had the guts to interrogate him as was necessary.

Why did he kill Kou using the Death Note? Because by not sacrificing a single criminal life, he would be allowing hundreds of innocent people to be sold into Kou's despicable business.

Why did he continue to use the Death Note to kill criminals? Because if he didn't, then those criminals would have continued their evil ways, quite possibly resulting in a pile of dead bodies. He was saving their victims by killing them.

Why did he kill Lind L. Tailor when Kira failed to do so? Because he knew that Kira was real, and he needed to prove it in order to track him down and prevent him from taking the lives of anyone who opposed him. If he couldn't prove Kira's existence, then his entire case would go cold, and no one would be willing to help him. And so, as the task force watched Tailor in anticipation, and as L figured out that Kira wasn't going to act, he'd pulled out a piece of the Death Note (which he'd taken to carrying around at all times, just in case) and written Tailor's name. And just like that, the task force had fallen into the palm of his hand. He wasn't manipulating them, not really—Kira was real, he _knew_ he was—so killing a criminal who was already scheduled for execution the following day was hardly a tough feat for him.

Yes—L felt completely comfortable with his ability to justify his actions. What he _didn't_ feel comfortable with was the way the case was progressing.

For example, L _knew_ what message Kira was supposed to send him in the style of an acrostic poem. _L, did you know? Gods of Death love apples._ A pointless and frivolous remark, unless one knew of Kira's shinigami, who was thoroughly described in L's half of the story. And so L, upon receiving the suicide notes, had fully expected to find that vague, slightly mocking message waiting for him.

But…it hadn't been there.

Instead, after L worked through all the clues, he'd been left with an entirely different message— _L, did you know? I'm not who you think I am._ And the quotes used to contrive the message had _meaning._ Kira had chosen them for a reason, and the implications of each note made L more and more suspicious. Above all else, the implication that L and Kira shared 'the same burning stigma' was incredibly worrying. Could it suggest that Kira knew that L had a Death Note? Was the notebook the stigma that scorched them both?

No…he was probably overthinking it. There was no way Kira could know that he had a Death Note, and no way that he could know that he had a prophetic story written within the pages. Well— _half_ a prophetic story. He had no idea where the other half had run off to. If Kira believed that he shared something with L, it was most likely their desire for justice.

But that was beside the point—what L was _really_ concerned about at the moment was just why Kira appeared to be going off script. He hadn't sent the right message. He hadn't started murdering _all_ criminals. He wasn't doing what he was supposed to. Instead, he was doing what _L_ was doing. He was only killing criminals who had either already been convicted or had done something worthy of conviction. In other words, L had no authority in attempting to catch and stop him. How could he hunt someone down for doing exactly what he was already doing? It was insane. It was foolish. It was nonsensical. And so, in his frustration, L had swiftly developed a theory.

The theory went something like this: as he'd told Light the day before, Kira, for the time being, was only targeting those who had been sentenced to death. But as time passed, he would soon begin to see himself as a god, and with that arrogance and self-righteousness there would come a terrible god complex that would engulf Kira until he saw nothing wrong with slaughtering not just criminals, but those who would oppose him as god of the new world. If this was indeed the case, then L's duty was to find Kira and stop him before he could hit free fall and become a monster. Or at least, more of a monster than he'd already become.

Once again, L had reached his justification.

Still, though, there was the issue of Kira going off script. If he continued to do the exact opposite of what he was supposed to, then L would have a hell of a time finding him. He'd most likely end up running in circles, endlessly attempting to find his tormentor. And if he was unable to catch Kira in time, then the man would become a monster and start offing anyone and everyone (at least, that's what L told himself). At least he already had a suspect—Light Yagami. L was almost 100% certain that Light Yagami was the Kira suspect in the notebook's tale. The pieces all fit—he was arrogant, prideful, incredibly intelligent, and he had connections to one of the members of the task force. And not just any member, but the chief himself. At the current moment in time, there was no one else L could suspect. And so L, in his determination to find Kira, suspected Light with a vengeance. Unfortunately, as his own morals dictated, he could do nothing to Light without proper proof. It was the thing that had tripped him up in the notebook's story, and it was the thing that was tripping him up now. He needed proof. Hard, concrete evidence that would convict Light as Kira without a question. After he had that, he could determine his next move. He would decide to either keep Kira by his side or to execute him. Or he would decide something else. It all depended on what happened.

As things stood, L was inclined to see Light again. In fact, he wanted to see him _now._ But it had been less than twenty-four hours since their conversation in the café and romp through the forest. L couldn't justify going to him again, even with his higher than average mental capabilities. Even if the teen was his suspect, he would make himself look suspicious if he suddenly begin popping up everywhere in Light's life. He was fairly certain that the teen suspected nothing of his true identity, and he wanted to keep it that way. The more time he spent with him, the more likely it was that he would suspect something was amiss. And so L—no matter how much he disliked it—had to keep his distance for the time being.

But oh, he didn't want to.

He wanted to pull Light from class again, drag him out to the middle of the forest, and sink his claws into that brain of his, picking it apart until he knew every little thing that made the teen tick. He wanted to examine, he wanted to hypothesize, he wanted to _know._ Because Light, for whatever reason, was not the same. He wouldn't go so far as to say something so cheesy as, _he's different from everyone else,_ but he _would_ say this: Light was estranged. He was isolated. He was not the same. _He was not the same_. He held himself in his own world, in the forest of his mind. He made all the same calculations L did, thought the same exact way, but he _wasn't_ thinking the same, he _wasn't_ making all the same calculations. It was infuriating. It was paradoxical. And it was why L longed, despite his better judgment, to sprout up out of nowhere, grab the teen by the hair, and spread his pretty little brain out over an examination table. It was quite a shame that he couldn't do it without killing him. Although, if he was Kira, killing him might be for the best.

L stretched a hand out, as he'd done for Light multiple times, and extended his fingers to their fullest degree. _Come with me,_ he'd wanted to say to Light, because it was so obvious that he didn't belong with the others. _Become a part of my team. Distance yourself from the majority._ But it was not to be, and L knew it. He knew it because he could not let Light near him, no, not yet. There were precautions that had to be taken, dangers that had to be dealt with in order for Light to earn a place beside him on the investigation team. Of course, Light had already more than proven himself to L—but the rest of the task force would no doubt be reluctant, especially Soichiro. He would hardly be eager to allow his only son to put his life in danger. And he _would_ be putting his life in danger, so long as L suspected him.

So, then—L had to find a way to get Light to him, permanently, as a part of the investigation team. And luckily for L, he'd already come up with something.

All L had to do was get his hands on _one_ incriminating piece of evidence against Light. _One_ piece of evidence that he could share with the task force, and then L could say that the teen was officially a suspect, and he could bring him in for questioning. Once that happened, L could drum up some faulty cause for suspicion, and that would be enough to claim that he had to keep constant watch on Light. He could skip most of the legwork and jump right into the part he was interested in—the action.

It wouldn't be easy. But it would work.

And so now L had to find a way to incriminate the Kira suspect. He would start by looking for the notebook. According to the story, Kira's Death Note was hidden in the top drawer of his desk, kept under a false bottom and an electrical trap. If he searched Light's house while everyone was away, and if he found the Death Note, then he would have the evidence he needed. Of course, the notebook itself wouldn't be enough to convict Light, not without a confession and proof of the notebook's validity—but it would be enough to put him under the suspicion L needed.

"I just need time…" L murmured.

"What was that?"

L's head jerked up as he remembered suddenly that the task force was still in the room, working hard on the Kira Case. They were finishing the work that involved the compiling of all the criminals killed by heart attacks, and they would soon be turning to L for a new task. "Nothing," L said, responding to Soichiro's question. "I was merely thinking aloud."

The man muttered something in response that L took no notice of. And so L returned to his thoughts, ignoring the bustling of the task force around him. It would be only another week at most before task force headquarters was completed, and then the case would become full-time work. The detectives would no longer be allowed to return to their day-to-day jobs with the NPA. Instead, the case would become their everything. And hopefully, by then, Light would be under suspicion by all of them, not just L.

It would all come together. But for now, L needed to wait out the rest of the day. Come nightfall, he would continue his killings. And come daybreak, he would head to the house of one Light Yagami to make the next move in the game they were playing.

And later, perhaps, he would allow himself to see the one that so fascinated him.

†††

Light stood in the backyard of his home, staring out into the forest beyond. It had been many years since he'd done anything like what he was currently doing. It was true that when he was a child he'd loved to go to the forest as a place of refuge, but that habit had faded with age, until he barely returned there once a year, if that. And so now, to be standing so close, iron bars the only thing separating him from the trees…Light couldn't help but feel the thrill of utter seclusion. It was why he'd always enjoyed the forest, after all—no one ever seemed to go there. As a child, he'd been the only one brave enough to go further than a few feet in.

But as he'd said, it had all faded with age. But then he'd spoken to Ryuzaki the day before, and that detour through the forested glen had brought it all flooding back. And so there he was, feet at the edge of the forest, stomach pressing into the iron railing, Death Note and pen tucked beneath his shirt. Seeing as it was a Sunday, he had the day off from school, and there was no one around to bother him seeing as Sayu and his mother had long since left to run errands together. And so Light, in an uncharacteristic fit of nostalgia, had snatched up his Death Note and headed for the forest.

Just as he had done when he was a child, Light hopped over the railing, and suddenly he was standing in a place he hadn't been in since the night before—and before that, for years. And then he was moving, stepping through the forest, walking off the footpath, for he knew the way without it. The leaves crinkled beneath his feet just as he remembered. The breeze shifted his hair just the way he'd dreamed. The trees loomed over him just as intimidatingly as he'd once known. He followed the imaginary path he'd tread so many times before, taking himself deeper into the woods. He knew where he was, of course—he could never forget the markings on the trees, or the way the invisible path curved so delicately beneath his feet as he reached the end of his journey. And when he reached said end, there it was, just as it should have been—the clearing, dusted in falling leaves and yellow-green grass, sprouting up in clumps from the dark earth. Also as it should have been, the fallen tree stretched across the far end of the clearing, the trunk lightly rotted. Plants were beginning to sprout from some of the larger holes, spiraling upwards in tiny green clouds of flora. Light approached with gentle steps, as he had since he was a child, until he came to the center of the glen. This was the best time of day to come to this place, he knew. The sun filtered through the trees at a perfect angle, sending visible beams of light down upon whoever had the fortune of standing in the center of the clearing. It was something Kira would have enjoyed, he thought, had he been the person he once was. Had _Light_ been the person he once was—or was supposed to be. He pulled himself forward with rolling steps, and before he knew it he was at the great oak that had fallen across the clearing. The trunk, though lying on its side, still stretched up to twice his size. Luckily, the stepping stones that he'd set in place as a child were still there, and Light was swift to use them to ascend to the top of the trunk. Once there, he brushed off his clothing and drew breath deeply, casting his eyes out to the clearing around him. It had always been so beautiful, looking at the forest from this angle.

But no, he couldn't forget why he was here. He couldn't lose himself in the beauty more than he already had. And so Light sat, hanging his legs over the edge of the trunk, and withdrew the Death Note from its hiding place. Next came his phone, slipping from his pocket with ease. He set the notebook upon his thighs, open to a blank page, and sat the phone beneath it. He had no reception out in the forest, but he'd had the foresight to email himself a list of names and faces of criminals before he left home. He opened that list on his phone and turned his attention to the Death Note, beginning to carve out the first name.

Ryuzaki…he'd called this place a haven. He'd suggested, however faintly, that it was somewhere that he could go to get away from the mess of reality. He'd suggested that they were the same, and that as was such, they didn't belong with the rest of the world. They belonged in the forest. They belonged in the haven that the forest provided. It _had_ been a metaphor. Ryuzaki had never stated it, had never acknowledged it directly. But the forest was not just that. It was something more. It was important. It held weight that no one else could see—no one but Ryuzaki and himself.

And that was just it, wasn't it? He didn't hate Ryuzaki, not even close—in fact, he thought that if the detective could drop the whole "catching Kira" thing, he might enjoy his company quite a lot. And it was all because he _understood._ He felt the boredom. He felt the seclusion. He felt the need for a safe haven. Even if he'd found it in some other way, in some other case, he'd found it—and now he'd found Light's as well, though the teen hadn't deigned to use it for some time.

Light's pen hadn't ceased moving, and he was now nearing the eighth name.

_I invited you into my haven,_ Light thought absentmindedly, dragging his pen unceasingly against the paper. _I invited you here, Ryuzaki. Now, what are you going to do? Are you going to come here to find me? Will you confront me?_

Pen scratched across paper.

_I'm waiting, Ryuzaki…now come and find me._

†††

L waited two days before making his move. It took every inch of control in his body to not break down Light's door in an attempt to understand the whole of his mind. It took every bit of restraint to stop himself from picking the teen's brain apart bit by bit in order to find the answers he was looking for. He wanted very badly to interrogate Light until he cracked and betrayed all the secrets he held dear. But somehow, someway, he managed to hold off for two days. It wasn't exactly an impressive achievement—but all in all, he felt at least somewhat satisfied.

On the second day, L awoke feeling as if he were leaping out of his skin. He wanted to talk to Light. He wanted to find out if he was Kira. He wanted to move the investigation forward. He wanted to do something, _anything._

And so, while he still forbade himself from speaking to Light so soon, he did allow himself to grab a case of cameras from Watari and head to the Yagami household on Tuesday, well after everyone was gone. He had Watari drive him, but he did not allow him inside. He wanted to investigate the household alone.

Once Watari left, L ended up standing on the threshold of the Yagami home, using the spare key to unlock the door, swinging it open with one hand. He stood in the doorway for a while, simply staring inside. He didn't know what to expect from the home of Light Yagami, but he was fairly certain that he had at least an idea of what it should resemble. He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. Just as he'd suspected, the first thing to greet him was a row of pictures, framed and hung on the wall beside the door. They were all quite common, depicting family vacations and the like. But that wasn't what interested L.

"Oh, Light," L sighed exasperatedly, pressing his fingertips to the frame of one of the images. "So poised and regal, even around your family. Are you really so bored that you can't pretend to be interested in your own family? Or perhaps this is not boredom, but disinterest. Either way, I suppose that I must feel at least a shred of pity for someone in your position. I have felt the sting of disinterest many times before, after all." L drew his hand away from the photo, moving further into the home. It was average, lacking the poised grace L had come to associate with Light. The decorations weren't overly ornate, and though most things were put in their proper places, it wasn't as pristine as he thought it would have been. But then again, he had to remember that Light lived with a mother and a sister—and sometimes even a father—and that the house was more a reflection of them than of him.

L shot a glance into the kitchen as he passed, giving the place a brief once over in an attempt to locate anything incriminating. But, of course, there was nothing there. Light was far too intelligent to leave anything out in the open. The worst thing L found was a pile of teen magazines clumped on the kitchen table, most likely belonging to Sayu. L, deciding there was nothing for him to find in the kitchen, briefly looked over the living room before heading upstairs. He briefly visited Sayu's room, then the room shared between Sachiko and Soichiro—but just as expected, he found nothing. He continued moving down the hallway.

And then, he came across one last door. This was Light's room, he knew. And consequently, this was where the investigation began. _According to the notebook,_ L thought, _Kira keeps his door handle slightly lowered to test if anyone comes into his room. If the door handle is lowered slightly, then I can safely say that my suspicion will be raised. However, it isn't enough to say that he's Kira. After all, someone could have just bumped the door, lowering the handle. It could just have been a mistake._ L reached out and grasped the door handle, pulling up slightly. It didn't move. _Strange…I suppose this means that I can't raise my suspicion. But still, I must remember that Kira has gone off script. He's changing things, and this could very well be one of them._ L entered the room, and before anything else, closed the door immediately and raised his fingers to the hinge at eye level. _There should be a mechanical pencil here with the lead extended. If it snaps, then it means that someone has been in his room._ But once again, it wasn't there. There were no traps set around Light's door. _Strange…it's not like it's supposed to be. Was I wrong, or has he simply changed how he does things?_

Frowning deeply, L turned away, and for the first time laid eyes upon the room that was inhabited by his Kira suspect. Now… _this_ was what he expected from Light. Everything was pristine. The bookshelves were perfectly organized, the floor devoid of dirt and grit, the bed made with agonizing attention to detail. It was perfect. It was exactly what he'd expected from the other genius.

Now…where to start? L walked directly to the desk and turned on the computer. He went through its files and history briefly, looking for anything that could provide well-needed evidence, but he came away with nothing. Next he leaned over the desk, briefly raking over the papers scattered across it. All schoolwork, and all completed meticulously. But however meticulous it was, he had no interest in it. What he was looking for would be in the first drawer of the desk, kept beneath a false drawer, guarded by an electric trap. The key, L knew, was the canister of a ballpoint pen. He snatched one from Light's desk and removed the canister. Then he yanked open the first drawer, expecting to see the dull brown diary containing nothing but frivolous entries. But to his surprise, he found…nothing. The drawer was completely empty. It was wrong—it wasn't how it was in the notebook's story. But still, if the Death Note was hidden in the false drawer, then it wouldn't matter of Light had changed the story. L dropped to his knees, pen in hand, and ducked down low to the floor so that he could see beneath the drawer. Ah—there was a hole! There was a tiny hole carved into the bottom of the drawer, just as there was supposed to be! Could this be it? L slotted the canister of the pen into the notch and pushed upwards gently, slipping one hand up to grasp the false bottom once it was lifted. A tiny thrill raced through him as the bottom lifted, and he pulled a thin rectangle of wood from the drawer and set it on the desk. He immediately stood and peered into the drawer.

Hmph…it wasn't there. There was no Death Note in the drawer. And what was more, there was no trap. There were no wires running along the length of the drawer, no circuit ready to connect should the drawer be opened incorrectly. _But this makes no sense!_ He thought irritably, running his fingertips along the bottom of the drawer in vain. _Half of the story's description is correct—there is a hole in the bottom of the drawer, and the canister of a ballpoint pen is the only thing that can open it—but the other half is incorrect. There is no Death Note in the hidden compartment, and there isn't a trap waiting to cause a house fire. So, then…is Light innocent? Is it just a coincidence? No, it can't be! It can't be a coincidence that Light is a genius, that he has connections with the NPA, that he's arrogant and prideful, and that he has a false bottom in the top drawer of his desk. It's impossible that he has so much in common with Kira, but that he's completely innocent. But still, look at the evidence to the contrary—there is no Death Note in the drawer, the electrical trap is missing, there isn't a mechanical pencil on the hinge of his door, and his door handle wasn't lowered. He fits some of the specifications, but not nearly enough to say with any sort of certainty that he's Kira. One discrepancy in the story I could ignore, but this many?_

L riffled through the rest of the drawers, checking for false bottoms and hidden items, but he found nothing. If the Death Note was in the desk, then it was too well hidden for him to find. But maybe, just maybe, it was hidden somewhere else. Let's see…what else did the notebook say about hidden areas in Light's room? Ah, yes—there was a false book on one shelf. He'd check there first. L made his way over to the bookshelf in two steps and knelt to reach the bottom shelf. He ran his hands across the book until he reached the one that felt different from all the others—the one that, in the notebook's story, had housed a collection of pornographic magazines, meant only to throw L off his tail. Perhaps this was now the new hiding place of the Death Note.

L hooked his fingers around the top of the false book and pulled it from the shelf. He turned it around so that the hidden compartment was facing him. _Ah, there's some sort of magazine or notebook hidden inside! It looks like he's inserted it so the spine is turned away, that way no one can tell what it is without removing it_. L shoved his fingers between some of the pages and pulled lightly, effectively removing whatever it was that was stashed within the fake book.

The cover was pitch black. A spike of excitement shot through L's chest as he thought that he may have just found the Death Note, which would have been more than enough to incriminate his fellow genius—but when he flipped it over to the front cover, he saw no white lettering, and when he opened it—

_Oh_.

L blushed heavily as his eyes were met with large, colorful pictures, spread out over every inch of the page, depicting scenes that would have made a porn star blush. Well, no, clearly not, because said porn stars were clearly _not_ blushing in the photos. L jerked his eyes away from the decidedly pornographic magazine, shutting the thing immediately. Upon closer inspection of the front cover, he noted that, most likely in an attempt to mask the contents from anyone who may have stumbled across the false book, Light had covered the entire magazine with a cover made of black construction paper. Which, of course, just led L to question just how the _hell_ he'd managed to mistake it for the Death Note upon first glance. _I didn't expect this from Light,_ he thought, thoroughly embarrassed. _I thought that he just got those magazines to throw me off…I didn't suspect that he'd just have them for his own enjoyment. He doesn't seem the type to…_

He didn't let himself finish that thought. _I should flip through it,_ he thought distastefully. _I don't have to linger—I can just riffle through it and see if he's hidden anything in the pages, or behind the cover. This would be just like Kira, to hide pieces of his notebook inside something that he thinks his enemies will never dare to touch._ Oh…L _really_ didn't want to flip through the thing. But it was necessary. And so, using only two fingers, touching only the edges of the pages, he held the thing up and flipped through it as fast as he could.

_Wait…what?_

L slowed down the flipping of pages around the midpoint as he realized that although he was holding what was almost certainly a magazine owned by Light, a _teenage_ _male,_ he had yet to see a single _female_ model. Was it possible that the magazine belonged to Sayu, and that she'd hidden it in her brother's room without his knowledge? That didn't seem likely. But still, the alternative was that Light was…

L swallowed harshly, swiftly finishing his task of riffling through the pages. There were no clippings from the Death Note, as suspected. And so he slipped the damnable magazine back into the false book and shoved it back onto the shelf, making sure it looked exactly as it had before. Despite himself, he felt a light blush coloring his cheeks, and his hands seemed a bit more clammy than they had a few minutes ago. It was best to not think about it, he decided. It was best to forget he'd ever seen the thing.

L searched the rest of Light's room in silence, though his mind wasn't entirely occupied by the task at hand. To his disappointment, there were no other secrets waiting to be found, and it wasn't long before L was beginning to set up the cameras. In the story, he'd waited until he had the task force's permission to do such a thing. But this was not a story, this was real life—and he couldn't risk death just because he feared angering the task force. This way was better for them all, especially seeing as he hadn't managed to get the incriminating evidence he'd hoped for. But still, his suspicion was not assuaged. It hadn't quite increased, but it certainly hadn't decreased.

About an hour later, L finished with the installation of the cameras. He made sure that Light's room was the most heavily monitored, with an absurd amount of cameras around every corner. There were to be no blind spots—and in addition, there were to be no places in which a series of wiretaps couldn't pick up whatever was being said. Overall, the entire house had been turned into a place in which finding even a modicum of privacy was impossible. It was one of the most unlawful things L had ever done, and he didn't regret it at all. It was another matter of justification for him, one that he accepted eagerly.

Why did he violate the Yagami family's privacy in an unlawful way? Because if he did, there was a chance that he could catch Kira and save his future victims.

His work done, L left the house silently, disposing of all evidence of his intrusion. By the time he found his way back to the hotel he was staying at, it was already late in the day, and there was nothing to do but write names in the Death Note and set up the monitors that would be used to watch Light at all times.

†††

That night, L did not work with the task force. Instead, he locked himself away in his room, shooed out even Watari, and glued his eyes to the monitors to watch Light Yagami. _It's just to figure out if he's Kira,_ he told himself, nibbling at a piece of strawberry shortcake, because to admit that Light intrigued him in any fashion other than as a suspect was taboo. _I will watch him and speak with him only until I am certain that he either is or is not Kira. After that, if it turns out that he is not Kira, I will not allow myself to speak to him again. He will only be a distraction, and L does not get distracted. If it turns out that he_ is _Kira, then…well…I'll deal with that when it happens._ And so with that in mind, L settled down in his chair, mindful of the task force working a room over, and braced himself to stay alert for the entire night.

Light arrived home at four o'clock in the afternoon, and he was the first to arrive. Sachiko was finishing shopping for ingredients for dinner, and Sayu was spending part of the evening studying with a friend. Or at least, that's what was written on the note Sachiko had left for Light on the kitchen table. He walked up to his room, and L switched camera angles swiftly to keep track of him. Even when he thought he was alone, L noted, he maintained only the most poised of social graces. He ascended the stairs in a regal manner; he opened his door with perfect posture. And then he entered his room, and for a moment he looked around, as if expecting to see something out of place. Luckily, L had replaced everything exactly as it had been before he touched it. There was no way Light would know that he'd been there.

The teen removed his coat and entered his closet, placing it on a hook before reentering the view of the main camera. He paused for a long moment. Then, slowly, he moved to his desk and plucked a ballpoint pen from the holder. L leaned forward in his seat, wondering if Light intended to open the false drawer and perhaps place the Death Note back in its hiding place. He immediately switched to the camera angle that would show him exactly what Light was doing on his desk. The teen removed the canister, just as L had done. But instead of opening the drawer, he ran one finger down the length of the pen's canister. When he drew it away, it was striped with blue ink.

_What was the point of that?_ L wondered. _What is he up to?_

Light released the pen, where it left dark blue marks across the surface of his desk. Then he lowered himself gracefully to his knees and opened the first drawer of his desk. He dipped his head, seeming to peer up through the hole carved into the bottom of the desk. L waited for him to remove the Death Note from beneath his shirt, or from his school bag, and place it back in the desk—but instead, the teen simply rose, closed the drawer, replaced the ink canister, and turned on his computer. L zooned in on the screen, hoping to see Light pull up some sort of record of murdered criminals. But he did no such thing. He simply pulled open a search window and stared at it for a split second before closing it and putting his computer to sleep.

L was thoroughly confused. Just what was Light trying to accomplish? Perhaps he'd forgotten what he was going to search? But no…that wasn't like Light. Something wasn't right here.

Light moved to his bookshelf next. Once again, he lowered himself to his knees as he reached—to L's horror—for the false book. He pulled it out, and without standing, opened it to the first page. For a moment he sat there, looking at the first page. Then a hand came up. But instead of going where L expected it to go, Light reached towards the magazine and brushed a thumb over a small corner of the page. And then, in behavior that L could only call bizarre, he placed the magazine back in its holder and got to his feet. He stood there in his room, staring at nothing, and tucked his hands into his pockets in a very L-like gesture. Then he turned and reentered his closet. Once there, his hands immediately went to his tie, which was completely removed a moment later. He folded it neatly and tucked it away into a drawer that no doubt contained a surplus of ties of every color and pattern—because, of course, Light Yagami couldn't be seen in public with a tie that didn't match his outfit. Next he reached for his shirt. Those slender fingers made swift work of the buttons holding his shirt closed, and the next moment he was shedding the garment and tossing it in the hamper. And L—for some godforsaken reason that he couldn't pinpoint—immediately felt that terrible blush coloring his cheeks, felt his face heat in embarrassment. Why was this happening? He'd always been so good at removing himself from the circumstances and observing with clinical obsession, ignoring any discomfort he might have felt due to the situation. But now, for some unknowable reason, he found himself unable to remove himself from the situation. The fact was, Light Yagami was stripping himself down, and L was watching like some sort of _pervert,_ without the teen's knowledge—and for the first time in his life, L was feeling a sort of discomfort that he couldn't quite pinpoint, and no matter how much he wanted to alleviate that discomfort, he simply couldn't.

Light's hands dipped to his pants, and in a matter of seconds he was standing there, naked save for a pair of black boxers that seemed far too short to be appropriate. And L was feeling _quite_ uncomfortable with the situation—although he had to admit, the teen looked much more gorgeous when he wasn't wearing clothing that left only his hands and head exposed. Light moved to one end of his closet and riffled through his shirts for a few moments, eventually removing a black V-neck from a hanger and pulling it over his head. Then he moved to the adjacent wall and stood on his toes, stretching his arms up to reach a pair of jeans hiding on the top shelf.

_He's built like a girl,_ L noticed, feeling a pang of unease even as he thought it. The black shirt was stretched a good few inches above his waist due to his arms being raised above his head. _Just look at him…I've never seen anything quite like it._ L's thumb darted to his lips, where he proceeded to chew upon it in fascination. His eyes followed the curve of his suspect's hips, descending into legs with honey colored skin and beautiful—

L's examination was cut off as Light yanked a pair of black jeans over his perfectly shaped legs. Cloaked all in black, he was quite the sight to behold.

_No, no, stop it!_ L spat internally. _Don't get distracted; you have to stay focused!_

Light sat on his bed long enough to pull on a pair of black sneakers, completing his outfit, before he headed downstairs and into the kitchen. He snatched a piece of paper from one of the kitchen drawers and sat at the table just long enough to scribble a note out for his mother. L zoomed in, reading, _I just stopped by to change, so I'm headed over to a friend's house to help him study for the placement exam. I'll be home in time for dinner._

Leaving already? L felt a heavy spike of disappointment. He'd been so looking forward to examining Light's behavior. But now, as Light shoved his phone into a pocket and left his house, L realized that he would have to wait a few more hours to truly examine his suspect.

†††

Light Yagami had a plan. Of course, it seemed that he _always_ had a plan—but _this_ plan was especially exciting.

The plan had formed as Light sat deep within the forest, having slipped out of the house late at night after realizing that he was unable to sleep. He'd been resting his back against a tree, staring up at the blackened sky, when he'd thought suddenly, _Ryuzaki suspects me of being Kira._ Now, this in and of itself was hardly a shocking revelation. He already knew that Ryuzaki suspected him—but that wasn't what worried him. What worried him was the thought that came next. _If Ryuzaki suspects me, then he's going to investigate me to see if I'm Kira or not—and if he's working with a team of investigators, then they'll_ all _be investigating me as a possible suspect. It's highly likely that he'll try to pull some sort of surveillance on me. Even if it's against the law to survey someone through cameras or to have someone tailed without their knowledge or consent, he'd do it if he thought it would help him catch Kira. And in any case, it's good to be safe._ And _that_ thought made him think of the Death Note, hidden in a false book on his bookshelf along with some, ah… _questionable_ material, which was easy to find for someone even remotely dedicated to searching his room. Additionally, there was material on his computer that he had left alone, confident that no one would search it. But then it hit him that there was a large period of time in which the house was regularly left uninhabited, and that in that time, if someone had the strength of will, they could break in and search his room and computer. More specifically, _Ryuzaki_ could break in. He wouldn't put it past him. Not past the person who had dragged him out into the middle of the forest and pulled him randomly out of class.

And so Light, having realized just how dangerous it was to leave things as they were, immediately set out to make changes. There were many things to fix, and he fixed them swiftly. First, the location of the Death Note. The false book was a terrible hiding place, and so he took it, and, being especially careful to avoid any curious eyes, slipped into the forest. He went back to the clearing, and in the early hours of the morning, dug down into the loose soil around the base of the felled tree. Then, having uncovered a three by three area of previously concealed tree trunk, Light took a spade and hacked into the rotting wood. He dug out a compartment just large enough to house the notebook, then slotted it into the tree with care. Then he took the chunk of wood he'd cut out of the tree and carved it down until it was just the right size to act as a sort of door. He pressed the handmade door over the entrance to the compartment, and to his delight, it fit perfectly. The seam was barely visible, and after he filled in the hole in the ground, concealing the lower part of the trunk with soil, there was almost no way to see it. _From now on,_ Light thought, _I'll come out here to write the names. I'll be certain to always keep a few pages of the notebook on me, just in case, but for the most part, all names should be written out here, in the place that only I know about._ Granted, he had told Ryuzaki that there was a clearing that was very special to him, but he doubted, even if he managed to find the clearing, that he would put two and two together. This way, Light knew, he was almost assuredly safe.

Next, Light had moved on to his room. He had to fix things so that it looked like he was an average teenager. He'd already disarmed the trap in his desk and the one near his door, but that wasn't enough—he had to know if anyone had searched his room. And to do that, he had to set up different traps entirely. First, he'd modified the trap in his desk. It had been rather simple. All he had to do was remove the ink canister from the single ballpoint pen on his desk and crack it so that the ink ran out over the plastic. Then he screwed the canister back in, so that anyone who used it wouldn't get their hands dirty, and the ink wouldn't dry up. His reasoning was this: anyone who searched his room thoroughly (i.e. Ryuzaki or one of the investigators working with him) would no doubt find the false bottom in the top drawer. Once they did, they would conceivably reach for the closest thing that was able to prop the bottom open. In this case, that thing would be the ballpoint pen's canister. When they unscrewed it, using one hand to grip the plastic casing and another to grip the metal tip of the pen, they wouldn't notice that the ink had leaked onto the outside of the canister. Therefore, when they slotted it into the tiny hole carved into the bottom of the desk, a streak of blue ink would be left behind. It would be so small that they wouldn't notice, but Light—who would be looking for it—would see it at once, and know that someone had searched his room. Of course, this alone was not enough to know that that someone was Ryuzaki or his investigators. It could have been Sayu simply stumbling across the false drawer. And so, Light had set the trap in the false book adorning the bottom shelf of his bookcase. It had been relatively simple. All he'd done was snip a tiny spec of paper from one of his assignments, making sure it was as small as he could humanly get it. Then he'd opened the magazine to the first page and placed the spec on the upper right-hand corner so that it would be easily dislodged. The idea was that anyone searching his room would be so surprised by the contents of the magazine that they wouldn't notice the displacement of the tiny scrap of paper. Lastly, he placed one last trap on his computer. He wrote a basic computer program, designed to change the color of the background of his search engine thirty minutes after opening a new window. Then he added a simple button in the upper right-hand corner of his browser that was designed to nullify the program. The button, when pressed, would stop the browser's background from changing colors. If it wasn't pressed, then the color change would happen in thirty minutes. It was the perfect way to figure out if someone had gone through his computer. The unsuspecting person would open a browser window with the intent of accessing the browser history, and without knowledge of the program, wouldn't press the button. Presumably, they would be done within thirty minutes and close the browser without knowing that they'd exposed their presence. They would never know—but Light would notice immediately, and then he could be certain that someone on the investigation team had searched his room. After all, no one who wasn't intentionally searching would randomly stumble across all three traps and spring them. It would work—it _should_ work.

And it did.

That day, Light came home from school, and as he'd been doing for several days, he checked the traps. The ink on the pen's canister was smeared. There was a blue streak staining the wood of the first drawer. The browser window had turned a bleak gray. The spec of paper was gone.

The message was clear—someone had been here, and that someone had searched his room. He'd been right to be concerned. So, the question held—was it Ryuzaki, or someone else? Was it…was it _L?_ Had he, after reading his message, been led right to Light? And if so, did he now realize that Light was correct in doing what he was doing? Would he deign to contact him?

But no—he was getting ahead of himself. L wasn't someone to show up in person to search through a suspect's house. If anything, he would have sent a lackey to do it for him. Like…like Ryuzaki.

And at that, a spike of fear pierced Light's chest as he considered for the first time the possibility that Ryuzaki was working with L. It would make sense for one genius to seek out another, after all—and besides, how had Ryuzaki gotten his hands on those suicide notes in the first place? They were hardly public information. But still, they'd shown up in the police database, so he could have just accessed them there. However, that knowledge didn't do much to assuage Light's fear that Ryuzaki had some sort of connection to L. Now that the possibility had presented itself to him, it had no chance of slipping his mind. He would have to be more careful than ever. He couldn't let his guard down around the detective, even for a moment.

But he'd gotten off track—he'd been standing in the center of his room, trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that his room had been searched, when Ryuk made everything a hundred times worse.

"Hey, Light! There are some cameras in here, you know. And there are these weird little contraptions next to them, too…kinda look like those things humans shove in their ears when they want to listen to that stuff."

It had taken Light a moment, through the shock of realizing that he was being watched, to figure out that Ryuk meant that there were tiny speakers near the cameras—and that the shinigami was talking about headphones and music. So, then…someone had made their move, and they weren't showing any mercy. He wasn't just being watched, he was also being listened in on…which meant that he had to be twice as careful as before. There could be no mistakes.

With that in mind, Light changed his clothes and left a note for his mother explaining his absence. Then he left the home, looped back around for good measure, and headed off into the forest. He found the clearing in record time, dug up the Death Note, and pulled up the list of names and faces on his phone. He would have to be careful—he would have to write a program that would conceal the list from anyone who happened to get their hands on his phone. Namely the investigators tracking him. But for now, there was nothing he could do about it. And so he crawled up to the top of the felled tree, swung his legs over the edge, and began to write. He wrote to clear his head. He wrote to forget that when he went home, he would be entering a prison. He wrote to banish the knowledge that he would no longer be able to speak freely in his own home. He'd have to constantly monitor himself. Now, the only safe place for him was the forest—but he could hardly spend all his time in it, or people were bound to become suspicious.

And so now, he needed a new plan. A plan that would get surveillance off him as quickly as possible. First and foremost, he needed to convince whoever was watching him that he wasn't aware the cameras and wiretaps were present. He'd already begun working on this, namely by changing so openly where he knew a camera would be watching. He would prove it again when he—and here, he visibly shuddered—showered in the evenings. But that wasn't enough. No…he'd have to say something, or leave something in the open. Something that was incriminating enough to prove his ignorance of the cameras, but not incriminating enough to increase suspicion.

…Kind of like the list he was compiling of all of Kira's known victims. It would be perfect—if he were Kira, he would naturally keep some sort of list of all his victims. Light knew this, and presumably, whoever was watching him knew this. And so to flout a list like that around so openly would no doubt be something that Kira would _not_ do if he knew cameras were on him due to the consequent increase in suspicion. But Light had already told Ryuzaki that he was researching Kira. That in and of itself was cause for him to be keeping track of his victims. It was the perfect cover, and the perfect thing to use to convince everyone that he was unaware of the cameras. It was incriminating, yes, and something that presumably he would never show if he knew he was being watched—but it was not incriminating enough to severely increase the suspicion he was under.

It was, in other words, perfect.

And so in a few hours, when he'd exhausted his supply of names and faces, Light slipped down from the horizontal trunk of the tree, reburied the Death Note, straightened his clothing, and headed home.

†††

L's attention was caught about two hours later when Light Yagami walked back in the door. His mother and sister were already home, and his father, whom L had released from work a half hour prior, was also present. The three of them were seated at the table awaiting Light's arrival when the teen arrived, apologizing for the amount of time he'd spent at his friend's house. He explained in an impassioned tone that his friend was about to flunk his calculus class, and that he'd begged Light for help—which L found rather strange, seeing as the note had clearly said that the teen was helping his friend study for the exit exam, _not_ for calculus—though he supposed that the two went hand in hand. To this, Sachiko and Soichiro responded with gentle chastisement, though it was clear that they felt more proud than angry. Light was perfect, after all, and there was absolutely no way that he would ever tell anything but the truth.

Tch. Yeah right.

Dinner passed without incident. The conversation was devoid of anything even remotely entertaining, and L found himself becoming more and more engrossed in his strawberry shortcake, which he'd slowly been working through in the hours he'd been watching Light. He'd almost eaten a whole cake, and he had no doubt Watari would be scolding him for it.

After dinner, Light politely excused himself from the presence of his family and ascended to his room, where he immediately seated himself at his desk. _Will he finally reveal the location of his Death Note? Is he going to do something incriminating?_ L leaned forward in his seat, highly interested in what was occurring. And he grew even more interested when Light reached for one of the folders on his desk and removed a cluster of binder paper covered in his own meticulous handwriting. He set the papers on his desk and turned on his computer, opening a browser window and typing something that was too far away for L to see. By the time he switched angles to see what was going on, Light was already clicking on a news site and scrolling through some of the more recent articles. Then he picked up a pen and flipped through the pages of binder paper until he came to a blank space. He looked up at the monitor, then wrote something down. Then he repeated it again, and again, and again.

Just what was he up to? L zoomed in on the binder paper.

He…he was writing names! L felt a jolt of excitement as he gasped aloud, "He's killing people using the notebook! I knew he was Kira!" He could have jumped for joy, knowing that he'd won—and he zoomed in on the web page, hoping to see who Light was killing, when he suddenly realized that he was wrong. Light _wasn't_ killing people—he was writing the names of people that Kira had already killed. He was…keeping a record? L's heart sank in his chest as he realized that yes, that was exactly what Light was doing. He was writing the names of those who had been killed by Kira on completely ordinary binder paper. He was just keeping track of Kira's movements. Nothing more, nothing less.

But still—this provided a substantial piece of evidence against Light being Kira. After all, someone like Kira would never do something so foolish as to keep a written list of his victims in any place but his Death Note. If someone found it, then he would be as good as dead. That in and of itself was enough to greatly sway L's suspicions. But still, he refused to stop suspecting Light until he was completely certain. And for that to happen…he'd have to force Light to do something. Something drastic.

If the teen became panicked…if he thought that something was going to happen to him…then he would be forced to take evasive maneuvers. And when he did that, he would no doubt show himself to the cameras. In a completely different manner than he was doing currently, L hoped, unable to tear his eyes away as the teen left his desk in favor of conducting a routine shower. Oh, if Light knew that he was watching him now…he wouldn't come out of it alive.

But he'd gotten off topic—the fact was, L needed to do something drastic. And as unfortunate as it was, he knew exactly what he had to do.

L removed the Death Note from the drawer it was hiding in and placed it upon his desk. He opened his computer to a news site. He began to write. He began to justify.

Why was he killing every criminal he found, despite the severity of their crime? Because he needed to do something drastic. He needed to do something to help Kira achieve his potential. He needed to do something to remind him of his place as the world's antagonist.

And most of all, he needed to do it _now._


	10. Temperance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to give you guys a heads up, I'm going to be away on vacation from Monday until Friday. So if you leave me a comment and I don't respond, that's why. 
> 
> Thanks for the support!

The next morning, when Light logged on to do his routine cataloguing of criminals killed by Kira, he was met with news that shook him to the very core.

Kira had begun killing _all_ criminals, not just the ones who had done something worthy of the death sentence. Overnight, there had been a massacre. Hundreds had died. People who would have only received a year or two in prison were now dead, all thanks to this…this _monster_ that believed that killing all criminals was okay.

It _wasn't._ It _wasn't_ okay.

Light, of all people, should know. He'd thought that when he swore to kill only those who the justice system had already condemned, he'd stopped the true nature of Kira from being unleashed upon the world. He'd thought that he'd spared them all from Kira's wrath. But now…someone had done it. They'd used the Death Note to do the one thing that they were never to do. They had used it to slaughter those who were not innocent, but were not deserving of death. They had used it for _murder._ Light's stomach hurt at the thought of it. As he sat at his computer, knowing that he would soon have to rise and get ready for one of his last remaining days of high school, he felt sick to his stomach. One of the other users had done this. Perhaps this was the user that Ryuk was looking for—and if it was, then Light knew that he would have no trouble killing him. The man was a monster. He deserved death. He deserved to _suffer._

"Looks like one of the other users has shown himself, eh?" Ryuk cackled from just over his shoulder. "That should help you track him down, right? You can find him faster now?"

And though Light hadn't been able to respond verbally, he'd inclined his head in the slightest of fashions, and Ryuk hadn't stopped laughing for a good three minutes.

After that, Light moved as if in a daze. He dressed, ever conscious of the person watching him from behind the camera, and went downstairs. He ate breakfast, though he felt though he might throw it up the instant he tried to leave. And his mother, ever the watchful lady of the house, inquired, "Light, dear, you look sick! Are you okay?"

It was the perfect way to bring it up, especially for the listening cameras. "I'm sorry, mom, I just feel a bit ill…did you hear?"

"Did I hear what?" she asked, working on cooking Sayu some scrambled eggs.

"It's Kira…overnight he went on a rampage. He just…started killing. Everyone. All the criminals, no matter what they'd done. Hundreds are dead."

"Oh my!" Sachiko gasped. "That wicked man is bad enough already, but this… Oh, Light, how awful! It's no wonder you're feeling ill! Are you sure you don't need to stay home?"

He chuckled humorlessly and replied, "No, I'll be fine. It was just a bit of a shock. You know, I thought that Kira wasn't so bad as long as he was killing those who were already going to die. But this…this is evil. I hoped that he would never do anything like this."

"I know, dear, I know." Sachiko scraped the eggs onto a plate and set them at the table. Sayu would presumably be down in a few minutes to eat them.

"You know," Light murmured, ready to deal the final blow against the other Kira, "it almost seems like he's developing some sort of god complex. He's acting like he's the end all be all of judgment, and that he's killing everyone, no matter what they've done. I think it'd be safe to say that he thinks what he's doing is righteous, but…it's not. It's just not. You can't go around killing people like that."

"Of course not," Sachiko agreed.

Light pushed aside his half eaten breakfast and got to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulders. "I have to go," he called over the sound of the kitchen fan. "I'll see you this evening, mom."

"Have a good day, sweetie!" was the response.

Light nodded shortly, then left without another word.

†††

It was during second period that Light noticed him. He wasn't sure if he was trying to be sneaky or not, but if he was, he was miserably failing. After all, what kind of normal person stared at someone else from behind a tree? Did he really think he was being subtle? Because if he did, then Light had a few choice words to send his way. He tried to ignore those black eyes, so intently fixed upon him. And, considering that the damned detective was watching him _through the classroom window from a tree,_ he thought that he did a commendable job. But it could only last so long—and he reached his limit about forty minutes into the period, when the teacher was, for the eighth time that week, explaining the concept of the English past tense and its irregular verbs. As most of the students stared glassy-eyed at the teacher, Light raised his hand and asked, in the politest of tones, to be excused to the restroom. The teacher agreed without a second thought, and the next moment Light was grasping the hall pass and leaving his English class.

It took all of ten seconds for the detective to find and approach him. But he didn't do it in the normal way, by walking up in front of him and greeting him with a smile and a friendly handshake. Instead, his presence was announced by the ghost of breath on the back of Light's neck, and the feel of someone pressing uncomfortably close to him.

"You know," Light murmured, mindful of the fact that he was still very close to the door of the his classroom, "if you wanted to talk to me, you could have called first."

"I missed your company."

Light blinked, surprised, but didn't turn to face him. "You missed me, eh?" he asked in a joking tone. "You've got to be careful saying things like that, or people will get the wrong idea."

The breath on his neck ceased momentarily. Then, "But you are the only person I care to speak to, and you didn't get the wrong idea."

"True. But if you get any closer, and if someone happens to glance out the window, then I wouldn't be surprised if they called someone to throw you off school grounds. You do look a bit creepy, you know. Don't you ever change your clothes?"

"I have many sets of the same clothing, so while it may appear that I never change, I do, in fact, maintain at least some level of personal hygiene."

"I know, I know…it was just a jest."

"Jesting, Light? That doesn't seem like you."

"Oh, cut it out. Don't be a brat."

He sounded indignant when he next spoke. "Brat? I'm several years older than you, you know."

"And you're behaving like a brat." Light took a step forward, distancing himself from the man behind him. "Now, I haven't got long. You're going to have to be fast, whatever it is you want."

"Hmm…well, I'm sure you know of the newest development in the Kira case."

Light's mood immediately dropped. "The massacre."

"Hmm…such a morbid thing to call it."

"It's accurate," the teen bit out. "That's exactly what it was—a massacre. The slaughter of hundreds of criminals who didn't deserve death."

Ryuzaki shrugged. Light didn't see it, but he felt him move. "Fine then—the massacre. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I did tell you to be prepared to be taken out of class at any moment, did I not? Well, it's happening now. We're going back to the café."

"Oh, no we're not!" Light snapped. "You are _not_ taking me out of class again so soon!"

The detective sounded disappointed as he asked, "Are you really so displeased with my presence that you'd deny me in favor of your _friends,_ as they call themselves?"

"Yes—I mean no—I mean…" Light huffed irritably. "Look, just find me at lunch, okay? I'll throw Takada off my tail and wait for you near the fountain that you _pushed me into._ How does that sound? Good?"

There was a long pause. Then, "Very well, Light. If that is what you wish, then I will comply. You may go back to class now, if you wish. I will wait out here. Alone."

Despite himself, Light felt a pang of pity as the words reached his ears. But no—he couldn't let himself be guilt tripped! "Good," he answered firmly. "I'm sure you'll find some way to entertain yourself. Until then, I really must be heading back." And by 'heading back,' of course, he meant crossing the few feet he'd strayed from his classroom.

Another long pause ensued before the response came. "Okay, Light." The next moment there was a touch—so light that he barely felt it, but still, a touch—that brushed over his shoulder like a feather. Light turned, ready to snap at the other genius for touching him so blatantly and so unexpectedly, but by the time he turned, Ryuzaki was already gone.

†††

Had there always been so much time in between second period and lunch? L wasn't sure, but he desperately hoped not. He wouldn't want anyone else to be subjected to the horror that was waiting for Light to finish his overly dull classes. He eventually ended up standing by the fountain, staring into the water and recounting the oh-so-pleasant time he'd had when he'd pushed Light into it.

And then the bell rang—and oh, glorious day, was it time for lunch?

…No. It wasn't. Five minutes later all the students were back in class, and it turned out that it had just been the switch from third to forth period. And so L fell back into his bored state, seating himself on the edge of the fountain and losing himself in a rather uncharacteristic fit of moping. He felt depressed. Mainly, he felt depressed because Light hadn't had the reaction he was expecting to his little murder spree.

And that's what it was—a spree. L hadn't wanted to kill all those criminals, of course. He hadn't wanted to murder them. But in this case, the ends justified the means. Killing a few hundred criminals now would save all of Kira's future victims. If he forced Kira to do something drastic now, and that something led to him catching and imprisoning him, then he would be able to save every single innocent person Kira would kill later. The lives of a few for the lives of the many. A few hundred for a few thousand. It made sense. It was justifiable.

Still…he hadn't liked it. He wasn't _supposed_ to like it.

But if all it took to catch Kira was a slew of murders, then he'd do it. He'd do it a thousand times over if that was what it took. But…it hadn't done what it was supposed to. Rather than saying, _oh, that's such a good idea! I should start killing_ all _criminals!_ Light had said, _this isn't right. You can't just start…_ killing _people._ And that was the most frustrating thing of all—that Light, who he so believed was Kira, had yet again evaded incrimination. Was it possible that Light just wasn't Kira? Was it possible that he'd made a serious error in judgment? And above all else, was it possible that Light, if he was indeed supposed to be Kira, had changed from a cold-blooded killer to a kind, compassionate do-gooder? After all, Kira _had_ gone off script, in more ways than one. If L could change the events that were depicted in the notebook, then it was possible that Light could change his disposition entirely with the altering of but a few, seemingly insignificant events.

But no—he couldn't think that, not until he found Kira and figured it out for himself, in person. He had to be on guard until the moment in which he could say, with 100% certainty, that Kira had changed his ways for good. Whether that came about by Kira's own design or by L's intervention remained to be seen.

The bell rang, tearing L from his thoughts. His eyes immediately went to the emerging students, searching for the only one he cared to speak to. He scanned the crowd, hoping desperately that Light would arrive to alleviate his painful boredom. But after a few minutes, when he saw nothing but an endless flood of common high school students, he began to lose hope.

Until, that is, he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder, and heard the words, "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to turn around and talk to me?"

L whirled around at lightning speed, nearly slamming into Light as he turned. When had he gotten so close? "Light!" he burst out, too startled to keep his composure.

An overly satisfied look flickered across the teen's face. "Yes, Ryuzaki. You wanted to speak with me? You only have thirty minutes, you know—you should talk fast."

"Of course," L responded, regaining his composure. "My apologies. I simply wanted to discuss the recent spree of murders—"

The expression that consumed Light's delicate features was enough to nearly knock L off his feet. The rage, the hurt, the raw _fury—_ it was palpable. "The _slaughter,"_ he spat, "of innocent people."

"They were criminals," L pointed out. "They were hardly innocent, Light."

"They didn't deserve death!" Light hissed, hands balling into fists.

Hmph…L had hoped that it was an act. But now, seeing the emotion in Light's eyes, raw and unchecked, he knew that it wasn't. The teen was truly upset. If he was Kira, then there was no way he was encouraged by the spree of murders. He was repulsed by them. He was disgusted. And that was _not_ what L had intended. "No," he said finally. "I suppose they didn't. But then, are you suggesting that you believe those criminals sentenced with death deserve it?"

"We've already discussed this," Light shot back. "I agree with the death penalty. I don't care if it makes me sound like Kira, because it's _true._ And it's also true that those people who died didn't deserve it. It was the most despicable act of mass murder in human history."

Those words sounded familiar. In fact, they were the same words that L had used to describe Kira's actions to the task force, and later, the ICPO. Just for a moment, L felt a flicker of remorse. But the next moment it was gone, and he was saying, "I suppose you're right. I too find this act of murder despicable."

Light's entire body shook in a visible shudder.

_Incredible…he's not acting. He's really this disgusted by what I've done. It's a shame…I wanted him to like it. I wanted him to become Kira in the fullest sense of the name so that I could catch him. But now I've caused this in him, and I feel…bad? Regretful? No, I don't regret it; it was the best thing to do. But still, I wish it hadn't had to be done._ It was then that L realized he'd been staring at Light for the past solid minute, and that the teen was starting to look concerned.

"Ryuzaki?" he asked softly, and L wondered if he knew just how melodic his voice sounded when he lowered it like that. "Are you okay?"

_He thinks there's something wrong. Perhaps I can play the pity card and get him to admit something he normally wouldn't._ "I'm sorry," he whispered, forcing a slight tremble into his voice. It worked perfectly. He could practically see Light melting beneath his gaze, though it was hidden well beneath a hardened shell. "It's very upsetting, you see." He looked up at his companion through curtained eyes. "I didn't tell you this, Light, but…I agreed with Kira. I thought that he was right to kill those criminals who were already supposed to be executed. But now…he's started killing anyone he pleases." And now for the icing on the cake. "I'm scared."

"Scared?" Light echoed curiously. "Scared for your own life? Scared because you think he'll start offing the investigators working against him?"

L had to hold back a smirk. He had him. "No, Light…I'm scared _for_ him. I'm scared for Kira. Because if he continues down this path, he will lose whatever it is that makes him good. He'll become evil, and…I don't want that. I think that he could be of use to the world. I think he could rid this place of many criminals who don't deserve to exist."

And just like that, all softness was gone from Light's eyes. His expression hardened fiercely, and his hands formed back into fists. "You agree with Kira?" he asked guardedly. "You agree with the one who you're trying to catch? If that's the case, then you should leave the investigation and seek him out. I'm sure you could be of some use to him, seeing as you're obviously quite intelligent."

"I can't leave," L explained swiftly. "You see, once I've committed myself to a task, I'm rather hard pressed to leave it. Though…" He paused for dramatic effect. "I could be persuaded." There it was—a subtle invitation. If Light was Kira, then he'd be inclined to at least consider his offer of joining him. If he wasn't, then he would show no interest whatsoever."

Light chose the second option. "That's dangerous, having someone on the investigation team who would be wiling to sell out his teammates for the opportunity to work alongside Kira."

Disappointed, L's response was, "I suppose you're right."

There was a long period of silence then, as the two observed each other wordlessly. L couldn't help but rake his glance down Light's form, remembering, against his own will, how long Light had taken to choose his clothing that morning, standing in nothing but a towel as he examined one item of clothing after another, taking an overly large amount of time to choose an outfit. Eventually he'd settled on tan slacks, matching shoes, and a white collared shirt with a brown tie. L found himself feeling slightly disappointed; he liked Light much better in dark colors—and then he fount himself feeling confused because _why was he thinking something like that?_

"Ryuzaki…" Light began, but he didn't continue.

L didn't bother to respond. Instead, he busied himself examining Light's shoes. They really were nice shoes…

"Ryuzaki," Light repeated. "Is that the only reason you came here? To ask me how I felt about the murders?"

"I wanted to see your reaction," L explained, seeing no need to hide his intentions any longer. "I suspect you, after all. It's only natural that I'd want to se your response firsthand, to see if you were satisfied with yourself for a job well done."

Another brief pause. Then, "You're wrong. Even if I was Kira, this wouldn't satisfy me. I wouldn't just start _killing_ people."

And L would give him that, at least. "Yes, Light. I believe that much."

"Then you believe that I'm not Kira!" the teen burst out.

L glanced around nervously. "Quiet," he hissed. "Remember where we are. But no, I don't believe that you're not Kira." Light opened his mouth to respond, but L cut him off with ease. "I know what you're going to ask me. You're going to say, _if Kira is killing random criminals, and if you don't think I'm capable of something like that, how can you say that I am Kira?_ Well, Light, I have given this much thought, and I've come to the following conclusion." L paused, once again for dramatic effect. He still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing by telling Light what he was about to tell him, but again—he had to do something drastic. "I believe that there may be more than one Kira."

Light's expression didn't change. "You know, Ryuzaki," he said, "I had the same thought. Perhaps one Kira is killing only criminal who have already been sentenced to death, and the other is murdering criminals at random."

"Yes," L agreed. "And if that is the case, then I can still feasibly suspect you."

Light frowned, the expression creating wrinkles in his face that L would have much rather gone without seeing. "I see…that's logical, I suppose. I can't say it makes me happy, though."

And of course it didn't—of course it didn't make him happy. How could it? "Light, I don't—" he started, but he was cut off as another voice cut in rudely.

"Light! Hey, Light, thank goodness I found you!"

L bit back a snarl. That insufferable woman was back again! Couldn't she make it thirty minutes without her precious Light?

Light, seeming to follow his train of thought perfectly, murmured, "I'm sorry, but it appears that she's found me. No doubt the others are looking for me as well."

"I want you to stay." And then L blinked, surprised that he'd said it. He was done playing vulnerable, so why was he still acting in such a way?

"Of course you do. I want to stay as well; it's terribly boring to have to talk to those people all the time."

The female voice continued. "Light! Light! Hey, listen to me!" And then Takada appeared from the crowd, and she finally caught a glimpse of who Light was with—and just like that, her entire demeanor soured. She stalked towards the both of them with a vengeance.

"She's coming," L ground out furiously, surprised at his own anger.

"So she is." Light threw a subtle glance over his shoulder. "Hey, Ryuzaki…do you want to—"

L's head jerked up. "Yes, Light?"

He immediately looked irritated. "Don't interrupt me! I was going to ask you if you wanted to speak with me after school. I mean, there's more you wanted to talk about, right? You didn't just come here to discuss the slew of murders?"

"Of course," L said, pleased that the offer was being made. So far, Light had been less hospitable towards him. "There are a few things I'd like to finish up, if you don't mind."

"Good, then—"

A feminine hand closed around Light's arm. "Are you ignoring me?" Takada demanded.

"No, of course not," Light said innocently. "I just couldn't hear you over the crowd. You understand, of course."

L forced himself to turn away, unwilling to watch the female make a fool of herself.

"Well, you should listen better!" was the brainless response. Couldn't she tell that Light didn't want to speak with her? "And I can't believe you're hanging around this Ryuzaki person again! He's a bad influence, Light! You shouldn't be around him, and—!"

She went on, but L was no longer listening. This was largely due to the fact that Light, over Takada's shoulder, was shooting him the most frustrated, disgusted look he'd ever seen. And for some reason, just the fact that Light was just as displeased with the situation as he was comforted him greatly. That is, until Takada began dragging him away, and Light was suddenly being forcibly removed from his presence.

"Light—" L protested, though he'd just agreed to let him go. He didn't want to part so soon, not when he'd be forced to sulk around doing nothing until he could question Light more.

"Sorry, Ryuzaki," Light called back, talking right over Takada's empowered speech. "I'll be waiting after school, yeah?"

And before L had a chance to respond, Light was gone, and he was left alone.

Again.

L sighed, throwing his head back and staring up at the sky. All he wanted to do was talk to Light. All he wanted to do was think about him. About the way that amber hair glistened in the sun, the way his clothing was so perfectly pressed and contoured to fit those youthful curves—

_No. Stop that this instant; you are_ not _allowed to think like that._

But Light—

_I said no! Stop thinking!_

But—

"No!" L snapped aloud, drawing several strange looks. He immediately silenced himself, lowering his head in embarrassment that was unbecoming of the world's greatest detective. _I mean, no—you shouldn't see him again today. Just call him after class and tell him that you're busy. You shouldn't be wasting time until you have the evidence you need to incriminate him._ And L was right, as he always was. And so, with reluctance that he didn't want to acknowledge, L turned around and left the school.

†††

Their conversation was brief.

_"Hey, you didn't wait for me after school."_

"Ah, yes. I apologize, Light, but something came up that I had to attend to."

_"Oh…that's a shame. I was looking forward to discussing a few other things with you."_

"As was I."

A brief pause. _"Can you meet me now? Or do you want to talk via telephone, like we're doing now?"_

"I'm afraid I simply don't have time for that. I do apologize, but there are things more important than speaking with you."

_"I see."_ His tone was short, clipped—L had offended him _"In that case, I should let you get back to your important business."_

"Light, wait."

_"No, no, you've made your feelings perfectly clear."_

"No, Light. Please, let me explain."

Silence.

"…Okay, I don't have much of an explanation. But still, allow me to say this: I've been avoiding asking you for some time, just because I wasn't sure if I could trust you. But now I want to ask that you help me with the investigation."

_"I've already helped you. What else do you want me to do?"_

"I…I wanted you to come to the investigation team."

_"And have you told my father that you're inviting his eighteen-year-old son to a life-threatening investigation?"_

"No, I was hoping to ask him after I got your consent."

_"Hmm. Well, how's this—if you allow it, I'll continue to sap your precious time from you whenever you like, and we'll talk about the case. I can help you that way. But until you convince my father, I'm not setting foot in that investigation room. And what's more, I have no interest in doing so. If you want my help, you'll have to work for it. I'm not just going to roll over and let you have your way."_

"Ah…I understand. If that is your only stipulation, then I will gladly meet it. I only hope that you'll wish to work with me when the time comes."

_"One more stipulation."_

"Yes, Light?"

_"Don't tell my father that I'm under suspicion. I can't put that kind of stress on him; he'll have a heart attack. And_ not _because of Kira."_

"Very well, then. Your two stipulations will be met. If you have nothing else to say, then I will let you take your leave. You are no doubt quite busy."

A pause. _"Hey…Ryuzaki. I graduate from college in ten days, you know."_

"I am aware, Light."

_"And when I graduate, I can do whatever I want."_

"So bold. Are you sure that you're intelligent enough to get away with anything you want, Light?"

_"Don't insult me. That's not what I meant, in any case. What I meant was that once I'm out of high school, I won't have anything stopping me from doing whatever I please. If I wanted to do something my father disapproved of, the worst he could do is kick me out of the house. And if that happened, I'm smart and fiscally responsible enough to support myself."_

"What is the point of this?"

_"Ryuzaki, you're supposed to be a genius. Act like it."_

A sigh. "Are you implying that you would like to join the investigation after you graduate?"

_"Yes, you dolt, that's exactly what I'm implying. Although don't get me wrong, I'm still interested in college. I'd just take the classes online."_

"And tell me, where do you want to go to college?"

_"Only the best college in Japan—To-Oh University."_

"…To-Oh, Light?"

_"Yes. Is there a problem?"_

"Oh…it's nothing, forgive me. I should go."

_"Very well. I'll see you later, Ryuzaki."_

"The same to you, Light."

There was a click, and the line went dead.

††† _  
_

Reasons Light Yagami was Kira: there was a false drawer in his desk that could only be accessed via pen canister, he was arrogant, he was prideful, he was keeping a record of victims, he was a genius, he agreed with what Kira was doing, he planned to go to the college that Kira was fated to attend, he was connected to the NPA, and consequently, one of the task force members.

Reasons Light Yagami was not Kira: the electrical trap in the desk was disarmed, there were pornographic magazines in the false book instead of a Death Note, there was nothing incriminating on his computer, he didn't support the murder of all criminals.

The lists were nearly even, but there was a bit more weight in the category suggesting that Light was innocent. This was naturally very frustrating for L, who, despite the evidence against it, strongly suspected that Light was somehow hiding his true nature. However, he still had to acknowledge the fact that Light was looking increasingly innocent—and so L acknowledged it by denying its existence and gluing his eyes to the monitors as Light went about his normal business.

_There has to be something,_ he thought, over and over. _I'm missing something. I've overlooked something. What is it? How is he hiding it?_

But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find anything. Light did nothing to incriminate himself, and as was such, L had no way of putting him under suspicion before the task force. He had, however, invited Light to join the task force, which would add a new layer of pressure on top of the mountain that was no doubt beginning to crush the teen. He hadn't intended to ask him so early, but he was swiftly losing ground, and needed to move things along before his future set itself in stone. Light was graduating from college in ten days. In that time, L _had_ to find something against him. If he didn't, then things would happen the same way they had last time: Light would join the task force and involve himself thoroughly in the investigation, making sure that he was respected as the co-leader of the task force—even though L had allowed no such thing. Then he would gain their trust, turning them against L bit by bit. And in the end, once he knew he'd won, he'd make it so that there was no way L could convince the task force that their youngest member was Kira. Just like that, it would be over. A conversation with Watari, a few hours in the rain, a rather interesting encounter on the staircase, then bam—he'd be dead.

So, then, L's next move became obvious—he had to find some sort of evidence, _any_ sort of evidence—that would incriminate Light. Because he _was_ Kira, he _had_ to be Kira, there was no way that he wasn't.

_…Or maybe,_ L thought to himself, _I just don't want to be wrong._

It was a possibility. But even so, he had no time to dwell upon it. As things stood, he was dead convinced that he was right. And so now, with only ten days to complete his next move, he had to get his hands on some serious evidence. That was why he was sitting in his room, monitors displaying the camera angle just above Light's desk as he worked.

"It has to be him," L spoke aloud, forgetting the presence of the other person in the room.

The other person—Watari—raised his head from the papers he was filling out, turning slightly to regard L out of one eye. "Ryuzaki," he said, ever mindful of the task force's antics a room over, "why don't you go work with the task force? You've been in here staring at that monitor for almost twenty-four hours without a break."

"I have to watch the suspect," L responded immediately, eyes never leaving Light, who was now continuing his documentation of Kira's killings. "He'll do something to incriminate himself, I'm sure of it."

"I don't understand why you don't just tell the task force that you have a suspect," Watari said stiffly. "They'd be able to help you; is that not why you gathered them in the first place?"

L shook his head. "It's not that easy. As you have so obviously failed to notice, the suspect is Light Yagami, son of Soichiro Yagami. To tell the chief of the NPA that I suspect his son would no doubt bring misfortune upon me. He would most likely wish to leave the investigation, and I need him to stay where he is for now."

"You could at least allow me to take over for a few hours so that you can eat and rest."

L felt a spike of irritation. Didn't Watari understand that it had to be him? He had to be the one to watch Light because he was the only one who knew what to look for. And seeing as he'd long since decided to keep the Death Note a secret from all those around him, they would be utterly incapable of figuring out when Light was committing his killings. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that. This is something that I have to do alone."

A deep sigh sounded from the other end of the room. "You're beginning to worry me, Ryuzaki. You've been working on this investigation for several days, and in that time you've become the single most obsessive person I've ever seen."

"Have I not always been obsessive?"

"Yes, but this is different. You've been watching that boy with a focus I've never seen you exhibit in all your years as L."

"This is most likely going to be the biggest case of my career," L murmured. "It's only natural that I would take to it obsessively."

"Very well. I suppose I'll leave you to it, then."

"Yes, please do." L watched Light get to his feet and stretch his arms over his bead briefly, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. He'd been studying for many hours without pause, most likely preparing for the exit exam. But now he walked for his closet and pulled on a black jacket, exiting his room with grace. He descended the steps, and a moment later he was calling to his mother, telling her that he was heading out to that friend's house to help him study again. With the exit exam only ten—no, _nine_ days away now, it was only understandable that a genius such as Light would be helping his lesser peers. At least, that's what Light would say.

Light's mother called back a vague farewell, and the next moment Light was snatching his phone and wallet and walking out the door.

L huffed with irritation. He'd done this every single night since he'd been watching him. Granted, every single night only added up to two nights total—but still, it was exceedingly frustrating to have him slip away so easily. _Perhaps I should access the cameras lining the city streets,_ L mused, running a thumb across his bottom lip. _I could see where he's going, and whether or not he's actually going to help a friend study. It seems rather unlikely, what with Light's adverse behavior towards social interaction. But still, it's not impossible. I should check just to be sure._

It took only a few minutes to access the video feed displaying the area around Light's home. But by the time the cameras were broadcasting, Light was just… _gone_. There was no way he could have gotten out of the range of the cameras so swiftly. It was as if he'd vanished, or perhaps…a blind spot? It was entirely possible that there was a blind spot, and that Light was hiding in it. After all, the people who had installed the cameras for the city were hardly concerned with catching video of every little corner, so having a few blatant blind spots wouldn't be their concern. But it was certainly _L's_ concern. He flicked from angle to angle, trying to locate his suspect. When that didn't work, he searched further out, hoping that Light had walked straight through one of the blind spots and was now on the road heading for his friend's house, or to some quiet place in which his killings wouldn't be noticed. Not that they would be easy for others to spot—after all, all he would be doing was writing.

L searched for hours. He checked every camera three times over, examined every corner, and was just about to give up—but then, suddenly, a flash of movement caught his eye. His gaze darted to one of the camera angles, which he swiftly enlarged to cover the whole screen. Was that…Light? Walking out of the _forest?_ L zoomed in just to be sure, but it was, indeed, Light. There were a few loose leaves on his clothing, which he'd neatly brushed off by the time he reached the railing separating the greenery from his home. He took a moment, straightening his clothing and hair, before he clutched the railing and swung himself over it gracefully. His feet struck the ground lightly, and the next moment he was trotting towards the house in a relaxed fashion, unlocking the door and entering. L immediately switched angles, turning up the volume to hear Light's explanation.

"How did it go?" Sachiko asked from the living room as Light hung up his jacket on the coat hanger by the door.

"It went well," was the mellow response. "I think he's got it, but I might be heading over there every night until the exam just to help him out. He's a bit shaky, you know?"

"Of course, dear, of course," Sachiko answered, though it was clear that she wasn't giving her son her full attention. Her gaze was locked on the television, where a news anchor was talking about the recent group of criminals slaughtered by L under the guise of Kira. Even on the slightly fuzzy image filling the screen, L could see Light's hands clench into fists. Once again, L was reminded that this was not an act. There was no one watching Light (save for himself, of course, but Light had no idea he was observing him) and yet he was reacting quite emotionally. Kira would never waste mental energy on putting on an act for a nonexistent audience.

…In other words, L had done the exact opposite of what he'd meant to. Rather than finding evidence to incriminate Light, he'd found evidence that suggested he was innocent.

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

L sighed deeply, watching as Light went back to his room and ducked into the adjacent bathroom. The next moment he was repeating the same process as the night before, fingers moving deftly across the buttons of his shirt, the moving down to shed his pants. He paused then, still wearing boxers—red, this time—and walked to the shower, bare feet padding over the tiled floor. He flicked on the water and ran a hand under it, waiting for it to heat up. And then—and this was the part that made L uncomfortable—Light shed the last of his clothing and stepped into the shower. L, in an attempt to maintain his decency, refrained from switching to the angle that would show him _everything._ After all, the chance that Light was writing names in the Death Note while in the shower was incredibly unlikely—and even if he was, the silhouette cast against the frosted glass of the shower door would be more than enough to let L know if anything fishy was occurring. And so L sat back, lowering the volume to decrease the sound of water, and waited the situation out.

And as he waited, eyes locked on the shadow against the glass, a plan began to form in the recesses of his mind. It was a despicable plan. It was evil. It wasn't ethically correct. But if it would save all of Kira's future victims…

For the nth time, L went over the facts. He strongly suspected that Light was Kira. However, so far, he had been unable to prove anything. If he didn't handle things within nine days, then it was highly likely that Light would gain an advantage over him that he did _not_ want him to have.

So, then…L would let the remaining nine days run their course, and he would attempt to find the necessary evidence. In this time, he would need to withhold all contact with Light in hopes of driving him to do something he normally wouldn't. Also in those days, he would continue to kill a predetermined amount of undeserving criminals each day. It wasn't what he wanted to do, not even close—but this way, he would apply even more pressure to Light's hopefully cracking resolve. Hopefully the teen would break, and he would do something to reveal himself. But Light was a strong person. L knew this, and he knew it well, for Light was very similar to himself. Although applying mental pressure would help, it would most likely take more than that to break him enough to make him slip up. L had to do something more. And that something more would come in nine days, if Light had not yet cracked. After those nine days had passed, Light would have taken the exit exam, and L would know for sure if he'd gotten into To-Oh. If he did indeed managed to get into the school, then that would be another strike against him. If he didn't, then L could say with relative certainty that he'd put the wrong person under suspicion. He wouldn't leave Light alone if that happened, of course—but he would certainly lessen his suspicion. After he found out whether or not Light was admitted to Kira's school, the second part of L's plan would be carried out. When the Yagami family was away, L would slip into Light's room, and do something that was far beneath him.

He would plant evidence.

He wasn't sure what he would plant just yet. It would take quite a bit of thought to find something—for of course, L wanted to put Light under enough suspicion to justify putting him under twenty-four hour surveillance, but not so much that he would be arrested and tried in a court of law. He had to be careful—too little could leave Light free to go, and too much could put him in the electric chair. It was a dangerous procedure, and one that L wasn't proud of. After all, the great L didn't plant evidence, he found it himself. But in this case, he was almost certain that Light was Kira. And if all it took to catch him for good was a bit of falsified evidence, then he would do it. He would do it because it would save the lives of all of Kira's future victims.

Heh…he could see it now. Having planted the evidence, L would send in a team of his own private investigators to search the house. He would inform them ahead of time of what they were looking for. They would find the evidence, and then, under the horrified gaze of both Light and his father, they would bring the evidence forth, and L would proclaim it as cause to hold Light under his watchful eye. Perhaps he would even go with the script and put a pair of handcuffs to good use. Even if he didn't, the results would be the same. Light would be his, and if he was indeed Kira, it would only take a matter of weeks to find out. L's life would be saved, and Light would either go free, be executed, or be tamed and kept. L took special interest in the last option. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he _had_ become relatively interested in the younger Yagami, and if he had to put the boy under lock and key to quell that interest, then so be it. He would do anything.

Anything at all.

†††

The following day, L allowed himself one last conversation with the Yagami boy before the inducing of complete radio silence. He'd wanted to go cold turkey, so to speak, and stop himself from speaking to his suspect at all—but he knew inherently that he wouldn't make it a full nine days—eight days, now—without speaking to him one last time to get rid of any lingering doubts he had about his plan.

That was why he was currently standing outside the teen's house like some sort of stalker, having taken a shortcut through the forest and climbed over the railing to stand in his backyard. It made him feel like a character in one of those sappy romance movies that the younger generation seemed to like so much. He half expected himself to lean down and grab a pebble, hurling it at Light's window to awaken him. But seeing as L's luck was less than satisfactory, he'd probably end up cracking the window. And besides, that was a stupid way to wake someone up. He'd much rather use the front door and have the chance to wake Light in person. Not that he was asleep, of course—it was only seven in the evening, and it was about the time that Light would normally be heading to 'a friend's house.'

L circled around to the front of the house and approached the front door carelessly. He had no doubt that he'd be scaring Light out of his wits by appearing out of nowhere to interrogate him in his own home, but it was more than necessary. He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the door.

The door opened a few moments later. A young girl stood in the doorway, brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. There was a large grin on her face as she started, "I was wondering when you'd get—" But then she paused, frowning as she registered that whoever it was she'd been expecting, L was not him. "Hey," she said, sounding crestfallen, "who are you?"

L paused, momentarily taken aback by the young girl. Light's sister, he remembered. Sayu Yagami. "I'm Ryuzaki," he said finally, forcing a heavy dose of inflection into his voice, banishing his normal monotone in favor of appearing normal. "I'm one of Light's friends."

"Oh!" She whirled around without another word, screaming into the house, "Hey, Light! A friend is here for you!"

There was a brief pause, then the thumping of feet as Light presumably got to his feet and headed to the stairs. "Yeah, yeah," he sighed, sounding tired. "A friend…"

The instant the word _friend_ left his lips, his tone fell audibly, and he suddenly sounded more than tired—he sounded _exhausted._ L immediately felt concerned, then cursed himself for it. Why should he care if his Kira suspect was feeling under the weather? He shouldn't, plain and simple—but that flicker of anxiety wasn't going away. Was Light okay? Why was he so tired? Perhaps he'd just finished a killing spree, and was feeling a bit out of sorts? L inched forward subconsciously, well aware of the fact that he hadn't yet been invited in.

The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs, and then there was silence. L knew that Light was staring at him, but he refused to stare back. Instead, he craned his neck and stared at the sky, which was turning purple with the setting sun.

"Light?" Sayu asked, and L knew that the teen must have been giving him an odd look.

The silence only lasted a moment longer. "It's nothing," that smooth voice whispered. "Sayu, let him in. He's a friend."

_Friend._ L felt a spark of indefinable warmth at the sound of the word, rolling like honey from Light's lips. He'd formed the word so silkily, letting each letter drop with indescribable grace.

"Well…okay, if you say so." Sayu, clearly uncertain about the situation, stepped aside and allowed L through.

He dipped his head in thanks as he passed, and then, for the second time, he was standing in the Yagami household. He found himself momentarily glad that Soichiro was still at work. He wouldn't be here to question why _the_ L was spending time with his son. "Light," he greeted once he was past Sayu's searching gaze. He heard the door close behind him.

"Ryuzaki."

There was a terribly awkward pause as the two stared at each other. Then Light said, "Come with me. We can't talk here."

And that spike of nervousness was back, no matter how much L tried to beat it down. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak without worrying Sayu—who was staring with wide, concerned eyes—more than he already had. It wouldn't be good to leave his suspect's sister with mental scars regarding his visit. But he didn't have time to dwell on it for much longer, for Light was turning, loose clothing swishing around him as he moved, and heading back up the stairs. L followed without a word, more than understanding Light's desire for silence until their destination was reached.

Light opened the door to his room and ushered L inside, closing it behind them. For a moment they stood without movement, and though they didn't look at each other, the tension in the room was palpable. Then Light said, "If you want to sit down, use my computer chair. It's quite comfortable." He moved further into the room and sat heavily on the bed, watching L until he did as he was asked. He was right, L noted—the chair was quite comfortable. But then again, he'd already known that from his search of Light's room.

Light crossed his arms pettily. "So…" he said, and L got the distinct feeling that he was walking on needles. "Would you care to tell me why you're here? During our last conversation, you didn't seem so eager to speak with me."

"I apologize for that. I had other things on my mind than the concerns of a teenager." L wasn't stupid—he knew that he was making things worse. But he couldn't stand the pompous attitude the teen was showing him, and he wanted it gone. Now.

Light huffed, his brow furrowing, his bangs momentarily fluttering under the strength of his breath. "This isn't how you're supposed to talk to people, Ryuzaki. Even the smallest child knows that you're not supposed to openly insult the person you're talking to."

"But I wasn't openly insulting you. It was quite subtle."

"Not when you're talking to another genius."

Well, he was right on that account, at least. "Let us make a deal, then. I will not insult you, and you will not act like an insolent teenager worthy of insulting."

Light's eyes narrowed, but not fast enough to mask the flicker of amusement that momentarily took them. "Sounds like a deal I can uphold."

L masked a smile before he next spoke. "I'm going to be honest with you, Light. There hasn't been a new development in the Kira case."

His eyebrows shot upwards. "Then why are you here? I was under the impression that you were only speaking with me because you thought I was Kira and you wanted to find evidence against me."

Yes, this was what he wanted Light to think. He could never know that he interested him in any manner other than the suspect of the biggest case of his career. "Yes, I would most likely not be pursuing you if I thought you were innocent. But still, does that mean that I can't seek you out for pleasant conversation?"

Light immediately looked suspicious. "Well, no, I suppose not, but…"

"I am merely attempting to calm myself before I do something rather foolish. I was hoping to discuss the possibility of there being more than one Kira, and maybe the implications that that may have. If you wouldn't mind, then—"

"Play chess with me."

L stopped mid-sentence, mouth hanging open stupidly as he attempted to process what Light had just asked. "Pardon? I thought I told you that I wanted to discuss—"

"Ryuzaki, I don't know if you've noticed this, but I'm tired."

And he was. The realization that had struck him in the entrance hall was only enhanced as, for the first time that evening, L examined Light's face and body. Oh dear…there were dark bags beneath his eyes, though they looked as if they would fade within two nights of good rest. And the eyes themselves were dull, clearly ready to close at any moment. His posture, normally so well put together, was poor. His spine was curved in a way almost akin to L's, and instead of the assortment of perfectly matched sweat suits Light always took to wearing in the evenings, he was wearing a dirty looking gray t-shirt and—

L's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized that Light was in his boxers. Just what the hell had he been thinking, going to greet a friend in his underwear? In what universe was that socially acceptable? Granted, they were very nice boxers…they were dark gray and form fitting, highlighting the perfect curve of his— _no, no, stop examining! Stop examining!_

L shook his head to clear it, and responded belatedly, "Yes, Light, I did notice that you appeared to be tired. What of it?"

"I don't want to talk about Kira. If I do, I'm just going to end up becoming frustrated. I'll be of no use to you, so if you really want to talk to me, then I suggest you do so normally, and over a game of chess. Is that okay with you?"

_Say no. If he's not willing to talk about the Kira Case with you, then he's not of any use. Just leave, and in eight days, you can come back and arrest him. Or, if things go smoothly, you can find evidence before then and take him under your wing that way. So there's no reason to stay, no reason to—_

"Yes," L murmured, "I would like that very much."

Light, looking immensely relieved to be free of all conversation involving Kira, reached beneath his bed and removed a board that he no doubt kept for his own amusement. He spread it out on the bed and set up the pieces in record time, and L was immediately reminded of Near and his decorated chess pieces. "I'll take white."

"It's selfish to make your guest go second," L murmured antagonistically.

"Well, this particular guest arrived at my house unannounced and scared my sister out of her wits, so I'll be taking that privilege from him." Light moved a pawn forward with a finger and waited for L to take his turn.

He did so, copying Light's advance. "Well, I think you'll also find that your guest was rather rudely denied the privilege of speaking about the topic that brought him here."

"The guest stated that there had been no new developments to talk about, and that he was here for normal conversation. This is normal conversation."

"Hardly normal, Light."

"Normal for geniuses, then."

L allowed himself a small smile. "That, at least, I will grant you."

"Good," was the response, "then let's forget about that damned case of yours and play." He reached out and moved another pawn.

"Just the two of us, Light?" L joked softly, taking his turn. "It's like the forest, no? A haven that only a select few people can appreciate."

"Do you have one?"

"One what?"

Light didn't meet his gaze. Instead, he moved a piece, raising the other hand to run through his amber hair. "A haven. I've already told you that I have the forest. What do you have?"

Hmm…what did he have? He didn't have much of anything, actually. He had no haven, no forest. Even in Wammy's House, he felt alone. The only person to ever alleviate the boredom, the loneliness, the frustration, was…

L swallowed hard. It was Light. Light was the only one. "It's you," he finally muttered, his words slurring together with embarrassment.

"What…what was that, Ryuzaki? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I said no, Light, I don't have a haven. Although I would very much like to visit yours."

He smiled, but there was a hint of tenseness around his eyes. "I'll take you there someday."

L couldn't help a smile. Someday. The word implied a future, a future in which Light was still alive. He wanted that future, he realized. He wanted to know what Light's haven looked like.

"Are you going to go?" Light asked, waving a hand at the board.

L looked down. "Oh…apologies, Light." He reached out to take his turn, and the silence returned. And that was how they stayed. Despite Light's promise of normal conversation, there was little conversation at all. Instead, the two of them stayed almost completely silent aside from the occasional murmur, and played the game to their fullest abilities.

It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was a haven. L wished that it could last forever. But no matter what happened, he knew that come the eighth day, he would have to go back to being Light's enemy, leaving anything he might have felt behind.

That, L knew, was the way things were meant to be.


	11. Berkano Reversed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sick...I got back from vacation (which was amazing) and promptly melted into a feverish puddle on the couch. That's why this chapter is a tad bit later than usual. Sorry!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left comments on the last chapter! I didn't get to respond to everyone because I've been away from my computer, but the support is appreciated.

L did not speak with Light Yagami for seven days after their game of chess. He'd wanted to, of course, but it was impossible if he wished to keep to the plan. He had to make Light nervous. He had to drive him to do something drastic.

And it worked—but not in the way L would have thought. Despite his best efforts, he didn't catch Light doing anything incriminating. But he _did_ catch a severe change in behavior. It started on day six of ten. Light began to act agitated, having had no contact with L in far too long, in both his opinion and L's. He acted distant with his family. His eyes were always scanning the world around him, as if searching for any sign of the raven-haired detective that had been so adamant about speaking with him but a few days prior. But L never showed himself, and Light always turned away, shoulders slumped, and returned to business as normal. As the days ticked on, the teen only seemed to get more and more agitated—and by the eighth day, only two before L would resort to the planting of evidence, it dawned on him that while Light was not allowed to see _him, he_ could most certainly see Light. And so he informed Watari of his departure, ignored his caretaker's pointed look, and left.

It was late out. The moon was relatively high in the sky and nearly full, so the light was bright enough to see by—or at least, bright enough to help L reach Light's house without tripping over his own two feet. He had no intention of speaking with the teen. He wanted to see him in person, though, for some reason he couldn't quite understand. He supposed that he felt bad, and wanted to make sure that his suspect wasn't suffering more than was necessary. And so he kept to the shadows and looped around to the backyard, expecting to see Light sitting in his room preparing for the exit exam.

Instead, he found something else entirely.

He found Light, standing at his window, staring out into the blackness of the night. L immediately ducked behind a tree, mindful of the teen's sharp vision. He wouldn't want to be spotted, not after he'd come so far. And so he kept carefully behind the tree and watched as Light turned away from the window. A few moments later the light clicked off in his room, and L became convinced that the teen was going to sleep. It was, after all, nearing midnight. But instead, L heard the distinct sound of footsteps, then the creak of an opening door. He blinked, surprised, as Light was suddenly standing on his level, wearing a black jacket and concrete-gray pants. He was…outside? In the back yard? Why?

His answer came swiftly as Light pushed himself over the railing at the edge of his property and vanished into the forest. So he was going to his haven, eh? No doubt he was feeling quite stressed, and wished to calm himself. After all, the sudden radio silence must have been very shocking. He could very well be concerned that something had happened to 'Ryuzaki,' but had no way to call and see if he was still alive. For all he knew, Ryuzaki was now dead at the hands of some unknowable power, and he would never see him again.

When he put it like that, L immediately understood Light's distress. And so he pushed himself out from behind the tree and slipped into the forest, following in Light's footsteps. He stayed just out of reach, never allowing Light to see him, but never allowing the teen to pull out of sight. Of all the things he'd done—watching Light change, observing him whilst in the shower, pulling him unexpectedly out of class without good reason—this felt the most _wrong_. Following him into his haven, his one safe place…but then again, the teen had offered to show it to him. Who was to say that L couldn't go see it now?

When Light reached the clearing, L's breath whooshed out of him so loudly that he feared he'd be found out. But Light did not turn around. Instead, he moved further into the clearing until he stood in the center of it, and craned his neck to look at the stars. It…it was _beautiful_. And L wasn't normally one to take note of beautiful things. The patches of grass, the spotted flowers, the felled tree, the great oaks stretching their branches to the sky…and the moonlight, washing over everything in sight, casting it in a silver glow.

And Light…L was reminded suddenly of the teen's name, written with the kanji for moon, and he thought that the name was very accurate. Standing there, Light was in the perfect position to allow the moonlight to encase his entire being, and L was struck with that strange feeling again, that one he couldn't explain. He almost wanted to walk out, to approach Light and extend a hand to him, to touch him just to find out if he was real. But he refrained, because just then Light started to move—and then the teen walked to the far end of the clearing and disappeared for just a moment, and the sound of tree bark creaking met L's ears. A heartbeat later Light was visible again on top of the felled tree, whose trunk was stretched horizontally across the clearing. Light walked across the trunk as if he'd done it a hundred times before—which, L thought, be probably had—and picked a spot right in the middle, seating himself and letting his legs dangle over the edge. His arms extended behind him and then he was leaning back, exposing that pale neck to the even paler light.

L waited for him to do something. He waited for him to move, to speak, to sing, to do _anything._ And eventually, when he moved, Light did not do what he expected. He leaned down and pulled at the tree bark, and a moment later his hands came back into sight, grasping something indistinguishable against the dark background the trees provided. But when Light opened whatever it was he was holding and settled it onto a flat portion of the tree, and when he set up the pieces on the board, L _did_ know what he was doing—he was playing chess. He'd hauled a chess board into the forest, and now he was playing without an opponent.

Hmm…playing without an opponent…L couldn't help but understand that feeling. And now, he knew, Light understood it too. _Don't worry,_ he thought, watching Light move the pieces across the board, fighting a phantom. _You only have a few days to go before you're never alone again._ Although, he mused, he wasn't sure if Light would like it any better. He would probably be upset, actually, to find out that L had conned him.

L's focus was drawn back to the clearing as Light finished his game. Glancing at his phone, L saw that it was now one in the morning. What? Had an hour already passed? Apparently it had, for Light was now packing up his game and leaving it beside the tree, hopping down from the tree. He stretched his arms over his head, as he was so fond of doing, and for just a moment a pale strip of skin was exposed to the moonlight.

_You're beautiful,_ L thought, then paused, surprised that he'd thought it. Just what was Light doing to him? Should he be concerned?

Light lowered his arms, an audible sigh leaving his lips, and then he was walking. He walked right past L, though he was completely unaware of it, and headed back in the direction of his house. L didn't bother to follow him back. He was content just to know that he'd seen Light's own personal safe haven, and that he felt—however wrong it was—that he'd shared something with the person he believed to be Kira. L stayed there for a few minutes more before turning and leaving the way he'd come.

He thought he'd gotten off completely free—but that night, _The Dream_ happened.

It started normally. L was sitting at his place in the investigation room, working on solving the Kira case. There were files spread out in front of him, and though he tried to read them, he couldn't—for this was a dream, and the dream was very adamant about the fact that he wasn't supposed to focus on paperwork. L put the unreadable papers down with a huff and pushed slightly back from his desk, realizing, at this point, that he was dreaming, but having no power to wake up.

That was when the dream got weird.

"Hey, L?" a voice whispered, sounding thick and hoarse. "What are you still doing up? You told me you'd be in bed in an hour, and that was a forever ago!"

L frowned at the sound of the voice. The fuzzy nature of the dream made it nearly impossible to tell if the voice was male or female, and either way he wasn't interested. He had to work, he couldn't be concerned with things such as that.

"Come on," that voice whined, and a hand settled on his shoulder. It was thin and lithe, and when L turned his head to the side, he saw that the nails were perfectly manicured. So this was a female, then. Who was it? It was a well-known fact that everyone who made appearances in dreams had been met by the dreamer—so who was bothering him when he was supposed to be working? "L, please…"

Something about the sound of that voice made L's stomach start to do flips, and he immediately felt the urge to get rid of the person rather than have to endure said flips. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he wanted it gone, and he wanted it gone _now._ And so he turned, fully ready to tell whoever it was behind him off. "You know," he started, "I'm trying to work, so if you wouldn't mind just—"

And then he saw who it was, and his heart was suddenly in his throat.

It was Light, of course—and now that he saw him, the feminine up-keeping of the nails made sense, and he was cursing himself for not recognizing that voice immediately, no matter how distorted it was by the dream. "Light," he greeted, unable to hide his surprise.

Light picked up on it immediately. "What's wrong, L?" he asked, and L became acutely aware that he was using the alias that he did not yet know. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

"My feet are perfectly warm, than you," L shot back, still uncertain as to where the whole thing was leading. He turned his chair entirely around, moving so he was facing Light. His mouth went dry as he saw what Light was wearing—dark form fitting jeans and a scarlet V-neck that dipped obscenely low. If he were a female, then he would be displaying far too much. Even as it was, the amount of fair skin available for L's eyes to scour was excessive. It was making him uncomfortable; that twisting feeling was overtaking his stomach and he could feel a blush overtaking his face.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" came the gentle question. Light drifted closer. "I thought we agreed to stop doing that."

"I am not avoiding you," L said, though he really had no idea what was going on. "I'm speaking to you now, aren't I?"

"Hmph." Light didn't sound pleased. He took a few steps closer. And then he was far too close, and one hand was closing around the armrest of L's chair as he leaned in until they were separated by a mere few inches. "I miss you, you know."

Wait… _what?_ "I-I've missed you as well," L stuttered, unsure if he was misreading the situation. "We should, um…talk more."

"There's a lot we should be doing more," Light sighed, and L knew immediately that he was _not_ misreading the situation as the teen's other hand brushed across his thigh.

"Wait a second," L said in a panicked tone, leaning back as far as he could. "What are you doing?"

The teen frowned, leaning back slightly. His thumb was drawing circles on L's thigh. "What do you mean? I'm touching you, of course."

"And what's the point of this, exactly?"

The light touches continued. "I'm hoping that if I touch you enough, you'll finally stop working and come to bed."

Breath was suddenly a hundred times harder to draw. "I'm afraid I'm not tired, Light, and you touching my leg isn't going to make me want to sleep."

The teen sighed. "You always take thing so literally." He leaned even closer, and before Light knew what was happening, the Kira suspect was _sitting in his lap,_ and _oh,_ it shouldn't have felt as good as it did. "Come on, L…forget about the case for a minute."

L fought to keep his breathing under control, because there was _no way_ that he was going to allow Light to do such disturbing things to him. He didn't care how good it felt, this was his Kira suspect. This was a person seven years his younger. This was a high school student. But oh _,_ Light had just pressed down in _just_ the right way, and he so very much wanted him to continue…

"L…" Light purred, and the detective was surprised to feel hot breath against his neck as the teen leaned in. "I can feel you."

An immediately flush spread across L's face as the suspect's words registered in his mind. "No you can't," he said dumbly, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be a genius.

Light laughed, and the sound was too perfect to be real—which was good, because it wasn't. "Oh, really?" he breathed. "You mean I can't feel _this,_ L?"

And then L yelped, because he was fairly certain that Light's hand was _not_ supposed to be _there_.

"Light!" he yelped aloud, pushing him off, ignoring that pout that was slowly forming on the teen's lips. "Stop that at once! You are my suspect, and I will not engage in such behaviors with you!"

And Light, the little devil, just crossed his arms and pouted—and if he'd had a demonic tail, as his nature suggested, it would have been flicking back and forth. "What's wrong with you?" he whined, and it was, perhaps, the sweetest whine that L had ever heard. "What do you mean I'm your suspect?"

"What do I—?" L sputtered, hardly able to believe his ears. "You know exactly what I mean! You are Kira!"

The teen immediately recoiled, looking shocked. "L, that was years ago! Why are you bringing it up now?"

"Y-years ago…?" And even though it was a dream, L found himself wholly unnerved by that little tidbit of information. Was this his subconscious telling him that Light was innocent, and that his desire to pursue him as a suspect was driven by impure motives? But no—to admit that would be to admit that L _had_ impure motives, and he would most certainly not be doing _that_. "Light, what do you mean it's been years?"

The teen flopped down on the chair beside him, sighing and flinging one leg up over the armrest provocatively. He sank down in the chair until he was almost half off it, staring up at L lazily. "I mean it's been years," he said unhelpfully. "And besides, you hardly have the credibility to be upset with me because I was Kira."

_You were…Kira?_ "You were Kira?" he blurted. "You admit it?"

Light rolled his eyes. "Yes, you ditz. Seriously, you haven't brought this up in years. What's going on in that head of yours to make you so spacey?"

"But Light…if you're Kira, why are you here?"

He huffed cutely—no, _not_ cutely—and said, "What were you going to do, arrest me? Yeah, right." A devilish smile spread across his lips. "You like me too much for that."

"I like you," L said bluntly, meaning for it to be a question—but the way the words fell flatly from his lips made it sound completely different.

"Glad you admit it. Now, are you going to come to bed, or are you going to stay out here writing names all night?"

_Writing names? What…_ And then L looked down, and suddenly everything was thrown into terrible clarity. For the papers on his desk weren't ordinary papers at all—they were pages from the Death Note, and they were filled with names. L immediately pushed the notebook away from him, startled beyond reason. What the hell was he doing? Writing names in front of Light? Was he _trying_ to get himself killed by the other Kira?

"You've been writing for a long time," Light prompted. "You should take a break. Not even the god of the new world can stay up for weeks on end."

God of the new word… There was a large pit of horror building in L's stomach, and nothing he was doing was getting rid of it. Just what was this perdition he'd landed himself in? His breathing sped up, too swift to get back under control, and soon he was practically hyperventilating, and it dawned on him that he could be about to black out in a _dream_ of all places.

"L? L, are you okay? Talk to me!"

L felt hands on his shoulders, but when he looked up, something was _wrong._ Light's eyes—they were _red,_ and his skin was shadowed demonically, and his hair was tinted scarlet, and there was blood on his fingertips, staining L's shirt as he gripped him. "Light!" he gasped, repulsed by the sight of blood dripping down to stain his shirt. "The blood…"

"Hmm?" The teen dipped his head, seeming unsurprised to see the gore that only seemed to be multiplying. "Oh, this? You mean you don't recall? You did this, L. It was the only way to save Kira's future victims, remember?"

L's throat constricted, and he barely forced out, "Light, where is the task force?"

He smiled as if L had made some great joke, and giggled, "Why, they're dead, silly! You killed them!"

"I…k-killed…"

"Yep!" Light flicked L's nose with a finger in a gesture that was most likely meant to convey affection, but all L could feel was the blood that his touch left behind. "It was all you. And it's a good thing, too…imagine what would have happened if you'd left the killing up to me!" He laughed, then, and his voice was sickeningly sweet. And then he shifted in just the right way, and L's eyes suddenly locked onto something else behind the collar of his shirt—something slick and shiny, wrapped around Light's neck and fastened with a bright silver buckle. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out, fingertips brushing across it as if trying to puzzle out whether it was real or not.

"Light…" he whispered, "is this…?"

Frowning, Light drew back, and for the first time L caught a glance of his wrists—and they were bound with identical bands, with tiny metal rings protruding outwards from the outer edge, as if waiting for a chain to be threaded through. "What is it?" he asked, raising his fingertips to brush over the metal.

A flicker of understanding crossed Light's face, and he said, "Oh, that! Honestly, L, you're acting so strange today. You know what it is! You've certainly put it to use a few times…"

L brushed Light's hair away from his neck and yanked the upper part of his shirt away from his neck and shoulders. He wanted to believe it wasn't there. He wanted to believe that he was mistaken. But there was no way to mistake such a thing. No way to mistake the fact that he'd _collared_ Light, like some sort of household pet.

_Wasn't that what I said I wanted?_ L thought miserably. _I told Light that I wanted to keep Kira as a pet, but…is this what I meant? It's insulting…Light is far too intelligent for this._ "Light, take it off."

The frown deepened. "But you told me to never take it off, not even when I'm showering."

L suddenly felt sick to his stomach. "Light, please—"

He rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting, love. Now please, just relax…you're worrying me." He leaned in closer, resettling himself in L's lap, and brought his head down to rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. L was horrified to see the gore dripping form his hair, seemingly increasing with every passing moment. What had he done? What had he done to Light? "Please…" that honeyed voice was whispering. "Relax…" And those scarlet eyes were growing closer, the shadows around them darkening, and L barely felt a hand twining in his hair, barely saw as Light drew closer. But he did _feel,_ and he _certainly_ felt the exact moment when those blood-slicked lips closed on his, pressing gently, as if waiting to be punished.

L tasted blood. He tasted it, and it was vile, and it was repulsive—but there was something distinctly _Light_ behind the kiss, and though he'd never kissed the teen (nor would he _ever,_ he was convinced), he imagined that this was exactly what it would be like. He forced Light back an inch—as far as he would go—and breathed out, "Stop, Light," silently begging him to move away. He didn't care if it was a dream, he was not going to go around molesting someone seven years his younger.

Light shook his head, bloodied hair grazing his skin, and then he was back, lips pressing sweetly to L's, hands clutching at his shirt like a child. And then everything was heating up, and Light was pressing as close as he could without physically melding into L, and his hands were slipping down his back, and Light's tongue was suddenly lapping at the side of his neck, and L's fingers were locked around his collar—the leather one, with the hook that was just _begging_ him to chain Light to a wall, or a bed, or whatever else was around—and Light was letting out tiny mewls of approval that had L unacceptably engaged, and _oh god,_ how could this be a dream, how could _any_ of it be a dream when it felt so real?

Things moved very fast after that, too fast for the muddled dream to keep up with—and before he knew what was happening, clothing was thrown aside and he was taking Light by the collar despite his earlier disgust, dragging him closer, ignoring the blood. And the bed was there, seemingly having appeared in the investigation room without purpose, and L was pushing Light onto his back, then on second thought, turning him so his knees were pressed into the mattress and his chest was pressed against the bed sheets. And then—and L couldn't be sure, because it was all just so _blurry—_ things got very warm, and there were lips and hands where they should not have been, and something was enclosing him that felt too good to be real. Light was panting, mewling, eyes thrown wide open, fingers twining weakly in the blankets, lips parted as his body was assaulted—and that was the only word for it, what L was doing—he was _assaulting_ Light _._ Things were very hot, and tight, and wet, and the _sounds._ Oh, the sounds were _incredible,_ be it Light's panting or the vulgar tapping of the bed against the wall that seemed to have suddenly appeared behind the headboard for the sole purpose of causing as much noise as possible.

And then, just as soon as it had begun, it was ending—and through the fuzziness that was the dream, L felt something warm and wet against his chest, heard a sudden gasp fall from bloodied lips, and felt that coil of heat in his stomach tighten until he just couldn't take it any more—and he _didn't_ take it any more, for the next second Light was letting out a tiny groan of pleasure as L let himself go.

It was fast, it was hurried. And when it was over, instead of waking up, L was forced to sit through the aftermath as Light pulled him close, nuzzling into his chest like the pet he was collared as, whispering beautiful things in a tone that wasn't quite as smooth as it had been before…before _this._ Light was speaking again, but the dream was fading, and L didn't have the strength to understand it. But he did feel the kiss, that last fluttering of lips across pale skin—and it made him want to scream. Not for pleasure, or for anything other than the pain that was coursing through him, sharp and cutting. He'd made a mistake, he knew he had—and even if it was a dream, it wasn't okay for him to have done what he'd done.

Light propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over L in concern, clearly sensing his panic. But by that time it was too late. The world was fading around him, and he was unable to hold on, no matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and keep himself from having to face the reality of his drab situation.

And then it wasover.

L was staring up at the ceiling. Light was not beside him. He was not in some random bed in the investigation room, he was in his own bed—and his own bed felt rather cold and desolate compared to the warm, fuzzy place he'd left behind. He almost missed it. But then reality set in, and he realized that no, he should _not_ miss it. He should forget about it, push it down. Because even if there was, somewhere deep down within him, a spark of lingering pleasure, it was not allowed to stay. He had to get rid of it. Even if he wanted to relive it—which he _didn't,_ he reminded himself again—he couldn't. Light was his suspect. His _suspect._ L shifted, rolling onto his side.

Oh. So that's where the lingering pleasure was coming from…

L flinched as he finally registered the throb between his legs. It appeared that he hadn't reached completion in the real world as he had in the dream. How inconvenient. Groaning, L pushed himself out of bed and stalked to the bathroom.

He slammed the door behind him, not intending to come out for a long while.

†††

Light had never been so concerned in all his life. He cursed himself for feeling that way—after all, this was _Ryuzaki_ he was worried about. He was a skilled detective; he'd be fine. And Light worrying over him wouldn't fix anything, so why did he continue to feel such a persistent concern for said detective? He didn't know, and he very much wanted to find out so he could _stop worrying._

Seriously, though—it had been six days. There were only four days left until the exit exam, and after that, he was supposed to get into To-Oh, start taking his classes online, and begin working in the investigation room with Ryuzaki and the rest of the task force. And yet here he was, and Ryuzaki hadn't contacted him in days. It was rather strange after being so constantly contacted for several days in a row. Ryuzaki had hardly seemed able to be apart from him for those few, precious days—but that seemed to have passed, seeing as the detective hadn't contacted him in what felt like forever. It was agonizing. Light had spent his entire life looking for someone he could call his equal, and now that he'd found him, he'd simply _vanished._ How was he supposed to respond?

The answer to that was simple. He became increasingly agitated. It wasn't a good response, of course—but he couldn't seem to stave it off. With every passing day, he became more and more concerned, and his agitation grew until it was nearly unbearable. Why wouldn't Ryuzaki just show himself? Had something happened? Had Kira—the _other_ Kira—killed him? And if that was the case, then would the rest of the task force follow? Would his father be next? He was, after all, on the investigation team with Ryuzaki. It was quite concerning, and Light had no way to alleviate that concern.

And so Light did the only thing he could—he wrote. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote. He spent more and more time killing those who were already doomed to execution. And as the week bore on, and Ryuzaki remained nowhere in sight, Light became something else. He became _suspicious._

Was Ryuzaki gone because he was making a move against him? Was this a tactic to get him to reveal himself? If that was the case, then he could have already sunk himself. After all, Ryuzaki's absence had driven him to spend more and more time in the forest killing criminals. Had that been Ryuzaki's purpose? And if not, then what was he up to? Was he even up to anything, or was Light just becoming paranoid? Either way, he couldn't afford to throw caution to the wind. If there was even the slightest possibility that Ryuzaki was attempting to get the better of him through his sudden disappearance, then he'd have to carry out the backup plan.

Said backup plan began that night. Light went to the forest, as he'd been doing so often lately, with a masterful plan in mind. He reached the clearing in record time, removed the Death Note, and began to write. He wrote all through the night, and by the time he was done, he'd carved out the deaths of almost a hundred criminals. He set them all to die on different days at different times, avoiding killing in a predictable pattern. On that same night, as a precaution, he'd brought his secret weapon—a chess board—and hid it behind the tree, far away from the Death Note. This would be his cover. He could hide beneath the guise of coming to the forest to play chess in the moonlight. It was perfect—no one would suspect a thing.

For the remainder of the week, he continued the pattern. By the time the ninth day came—the day before the exit exam—he'd set it up so that criminals would continue to die without his intervention for many weeks in advance. However, this didn't change the rather obvious issue that Ryuzaki, if he was half the investigator he thought he was, would notice that no new criminals were being killed. He would no doubt notice that although new criminals were being broadcast, none of them were dying. He would immediately put two and two together, and Light would be convicted. It would be a terrible way to go. And so, by means of keeping his cover, he'd already set up another plan, one that would run parallel to the first. But if everything went smoothly, it wouldn't be necessary.

It's what he was counting on.

On that final night before the entrance exam, Light went to the forest. He fully intended to continue writing names, extending his lead on those tracking him by another month at least. But as he walked towards the clearing, he heard something. It was never quite definable, but still, it was there—the crack of a twig here, the rustle of branches there—and Light knew, somewhere deep in his mind, that something wasn't right. And so when he got to the forest, instead of pulling out his Death Note, he did something else. He went to the chess board, finding relief in the fact that he'd stored it there for specifically that purpose. He set it up on the top of the tree trunk, making sure he was completely visible to anyone who may have been watching. Then he began to play. To anyone who was watching, it looked entirely innocent. Who would fault a genius for sneaking out to play a simple game of chess in the moonlight?

Light finished his game after what felt like an hour. He calmly replaced the slightly dusty chess board, climbed down the tree, and walked right past where he'd heard the last twig snap. He glanced around out of the corners of his eyes, attempting to see if anyone was following him. But he could see no one. If someone was there, then they were doing a stellar job of hiding their presence. Having no choice but to leave, Light picked his way out of the forest and leapt over the railing to reenter his house. He moved up to his window and gazed out, keeping the lights off so that no one could see that he was inside. He almost hoped to see Ryuzaki standing there, staring up at his window—but it was wishful thinking. The detective wasn't there; he hadn't been there for days. Where was he? Tomorrow was the exit exam…he was supposed to take him to join the investigation. He missed him. He actually _missed_ that annoying bastard.

Light swallowed hard, flinching as he admitted that which he did not want to admit. Ryuzaki had become a constant for those few days, and now, to have him just… _gone…_ it was more difficult than Light had imagined. He hadn't realized just how much he'd enjoyed having another genius to talk to.

Having just stepped away from the window, Light closed the blinds and moved his hands to his clothing. It took no time at all to strip himself of his jacket, shirt, and pants—and then he was slipping on a T-shirt and climbing into bed, feeling a dull sense of misery at the thought that Ryuzaki might not come back to speak with him. After all, there was a possibility, however small, that the detective had been killed.

_No! I won't allow myself to think like that! I just have to focus on the plan. Either way, Ryuzaki will have to contact me soon. After all, he told me that he wanted my help with the investigation. Unless he was lying, he'll have to be calling me within a matter of days._

Light cast a weary glance at the nightstand, where his phone was lying dormant. Despite his violent wishing, the phone remained silent. Groaning, the teen rolled onto his side, back turned towards the rest of the room. "Where the hell are you, Ryuzaki?" he whispered, momentarily forgetting the presence of the cameras, as well as Ryuk, who had been floating listlessly around the ceiling for the past several hours. The shinigami was growing quite restless, frustrated with the fact that Light was making no progress in locating the other notebook user. He hadn't said much lately, and Light was perfectly fine with that. So long as he provided the shinigami with apples, he was more than pleased to tuck himself away in a corner and eat to his heart's content.

Light, unable to find a comfortable position, rolled onto his stomach. He brought his arms up, pillowing them beneath his head.

It was going to be a long night.

†††

It was test day. Light arrived three minutes ahead of schedule, walked into the testing hall, found his seat, sat in it, and took his test. It was easy, of course, and he finished with what he believed to be a steady 100%.

There was no sign of Ryuzaki.

†††

In the end, it was sadly easy to pull the strings required to put Light under instant suspicion. L didn't bother telling the task force of his impending absence—he simply rose, knowing that it was time, and executed his plan.

He'd been agonizing over how to frame Light for several days without fail. There was no one he could ask for help in the matter—and even if he did have someone, he wouldn't have asked anyways. He was L, and L did not need help. Although…if he was absolutely going to ask for it…he had the sneaking feeling that he'd be driven to the very amber-haired teen he was hoping to incarcerate. How depressing.

When all was said and done, L had come up with a plan that was infallible. It was rather simple, really—Light had already given him everything he needed to succeed. All he had to do was write a few names.

It began simply enough. L approached Watari and asked for a ride to Light's house, although, he made sure to dress his words up so that he sounded more like a detective and less like a child.

"Again, sir?" Watari asked, sounding weary. "You've been spending a lot of time with the older Yagami child, don't you think?"

"It's been a week since I last saw him," L pointed out dryly.

"With all due respect, we both know that that's not correct. Don't think I didn't see you sneak out of this place a few days ago, and don't think that I was unaware of your destination."

L immediately looked away. He'd hoped to avoid Watari's curious gaze when he left to observe Light. He didn't need his caretaker becoming suspicious of his intentions. "I did not speak with him," he defended himself. "He did not see me. He had no idea I was there."

The inventor sighed heavily. "You suspect him, correct?"

"I do. That is why I have endeavored to watch him so frequently."

"How strong of a possibility is there that he is Kira?"

L paused, though he already knew the percentage. He made a show of pressing his thumb against his lips and humming noncommittally before murmuring, "I believe that there is a three percent chance that he is the one we are looking for. However, after today, I believe that I will be able to either prove him completely innocent or almost certainly guilty." In reality, L believed that there was a ninety-six percent chance that Light was the villain he sought. But if he told Watari such things, then he would be immediately asking for justification that L wouldn't be able to provide without revealing his sources.

"If you suspect him, even by the lowest percentage, you should tell the boy's father. He deserves to know that you've been watching his son so closely."

Ah, yes…Soichiro Yagami. He was the biggest obstacle. But still, L didn't regret inviting him to the investigation team—as the notebook dictated, he would have his uses. All L had to do was manipulate him just enough to keep Light imprisoned. After that, it would be easy to string him along. With any luck, by the time Light was proven as Kira and taken away, Soichiro's power would have been completely sapped, and he would be unable to do a thing about it other than yell. L allowed himself a small smile at the thought. "The percentage is not enough to worry him over," he lied smoothly. "If it increases—which may be more likely than I wish to admit—then I will inform him immediately."

Watari didn't seem pleased. But still, he replied, "If that is what you think is best, then so be it. You need me to be your driver?"

"I do. Please take me to Light Yagami's house at once."

Watari obeyed without question, completely unaware that he was acting as an orchestrator of Light's demise—and equally unaware of the Death Note, tucked securely beneath L's shirt in a plastic sleeve.

†††

Light was nervous. He was out of the exam hall, having finished hours ago, and was sitting on his usual bench in the courtyard. It would be a while yet before To-OH would go over the scores of the applying students and select who would be allowed to enroll. Light had no doubt that he'd be among those who would be attending. _That_ wasn't what he was nervous about. No—his nervousness lurked just beneath the surface, and looked suspiciously like the dark-eyed detective that had come to haunt his dreams as of late. He'd taken the exam. He was officially out of high school. So…

_Where the hell was that bastard of a detective?_

Ryuzaki had promised that he'd find him after the exam. Of course, it had only been a few hours since then, but still…a promise was a promise, and Ryuzaki should have been there. Light felt a prickle of irritation at his seeming dependence upon the detective, wondering for the nth time why he cared so much if he didn't show up. He didn't need Ryuzaki. He could go to college, get a job with the NPA, and surpass him—all without working on the Kira Case with the brat. He did _not_ need Ryuzaki.

Light crossed and uncrossed his arms nervously. Perhaps he should just head home…if Ryuzaki wasn't going to show up, then there was no need for him to wait. But still—something kept Light there, firmly seated in his usual place, waiting for the detective.

_Just a few more minutes,_ he told himself, defiantly crossing his ankles and tossing his hair away from his eyes. _I'll wait just a bit more, then I'll go. And if doesn't come…_

Light closed his eyes. No…he would not think such things. Not yet.

†††

L knew he had to be quick. Sachiko had stepped out for a moment, Sayu was in class, Soichiro was at work, and Light—the obvious wild card—had just gotten out of school, having completed the exit exam. If he chose to head home straight away, then there was a good chance that he would catch L red-handed. However, if he chose to wait, as L thought he would, then there was an even larger chance that they would miss each other entirely. This was what L was hoping for. He'd told Light that he'd find him after he graduated high school—or, more accurately, when he took and passed the exit exam. Now the time had come, and instead of being where he'd implied he'd be, he was in Light's house, about to frame him for the murder of hundreds of criminals. Presumably, Light would stay and wait for L at the school. He wouldn't be there, of course. With any luck, by the time Light gave up and headed home, there would already be a team of L's officers ready to arrest him. And by arrest, of course, L meant that Light would be given to him for safekeeping.

And so it was with that purpose that L found himself back inside the Yagami household, standing in Light's room. It would be incredibly convenient if he'd moved his Death Note back to the top drawer of his desk—but after a quick recheck, he found that Light was, as suspected, far too intelligent to make such a move. And so it was back to his original plan. L pulled open the first drawer of Light's desk and withdrew the cluster of papers that he'd seen him writing on so frequently over the past few weeks. This was Light's record of all of Kira's victims. According to Light, he kept watch on the news and wrote down the names of the people that had been killed. Seeing as the news stations were beginning to pay more and more attention to Kira and broadcast more and more of his victims, it wasn't a monumental task. Especially for someone like Light, who was diligent enough to keep track of the hundreds that met their fate each week. Already the cluster of papers had grown since L had last seen it. He riffled through them until he game to the last few pages, conveniently left blank. _Good…these will suit my purposes perfectly._

L sat at Light's desk and grabbed a pen. Then he pulled out his Death note, carefully securing his gloves over his hands before removing the thing from its protective sleeve. He had yet to touch the notebook with his bare skin, and he didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. He carefully spread the notebook before him and removed his cellular device from his pocket. He'd preemptively placed a list of names and faces of known criminals on his phone, knowing that this was his ultimate goal. He'd made sure that some were criminals who deserved death, while others were guilty of only minor crimes. It would be easier to incriminate Light this way. Now came the tricky part—copying Light's handwriting exactly. L chose the first criminal from his list, memorizing the name in a heartbeat. Then, in painstaking scrawl, he began to carve out his name on Light's record of victims. Even with his best efforts, there was a very small discrepancy in handwriting. L's writing was naturally spikier and less rounded, while Light's consisted of smooth, flowing scrawl. As was such, L was unable to perfectly mimic his suspect's handwriting—but it was so close that he doubted anyone would be able to tell, least of all the people he needed to fool. Once he'd completed the first name, he looked back to his list and continued copying. He went until he'd completed the entire list—twenty-four criminals in all. It wasn't a large number by any means, but it was more than enough to serve L's purpose.

His work with Light's papers done, he bundled them back up as they were and carefully slotted them back in their place in the drawer. There was a chance that Light would notice the added names before he was taken away, but even if he did, it wouldn't matter. This evidence was more than enough to get him hauled off despite his protests.

L forced his attention back to his task. Now that he'd completed the copying of names in Light's records, he had one more step to complete. He studied the list of names and faces for but a moment, then set to work. He wrote name after name, until he was through with the entire list—and beside each name, he wrote with complete clarity the date on which the criminal would die—only a few days from the present.

His reasoning was simple. His plan was even simpler. In order, his plan went: write the names of a select few criminals in Light's record of Kira victims, write the names of the same criminals in the Death Note along with the specification of the day on which they would die. Then would come phase two: without telling the task force, spring a raid on Light's house and confiscate the records as evidence. Next, L would make a show of examining the records and figuring out that Light had written the names of criminals who had not yet died. Then, when those criminals died on the day that was specified, Light would immediately be placed under serious suspicion. After all, how could it be a coincidence that he'd not only kept a record of all of Kira's victims, but he'd also predicted a grand total of twenty-four deaths before they came to pass? It was the perfect plan—perfect because as incriminating as it was, there was an easy way out for Light.

All Light would have to do was state that he'd found the pattern in Kira's killings and predicted the next couple of victims. It would be stilted, of course—it was highly unlikely that Light could have perfectly predicted the deaths of twenty-four criminals, especially not when there were hundreds of other candidates for execution via heart attack. But still, it wasn't so unlikely that it was impossible. And as a result, Light was perfectly within his rights to claim that it had been a coincidence. As was such, he wouldn't be able to be convicted on so little evidence—but just as L wanted, it would incriminate him enough to justify keeping him by his side to keep watch over him.

It was brilliant—because as a result, L would be able to find out, once and for all, if Light was really Kira. He'd already thought of the fact that if the killings stopped after Light was taken into custody, then he was no doubt Kira. Unless, of course, Light had set it up so that people would continue to die while he was unable to kill using the Death Note. But even if Light had set it up so that criminals would continue to die, then L had no doubt he would be able to derive the teen's true identity through other means. Mind games were a thing that he was able to play quite well, and he was more than confident in his ability to break Light down. He had no idea how long it might take—but he knew that if he continued to chip and tear at Light's perfect mask, it would eventually reach such a state of fragility that all he would have to do would be to reach out a finger and touch it—and it would all come tumbling down. L was already fairly certain that Light was Kira—but he still needed evidence. Real, tangible, evidence. Not even Light's father would be able to question his son's identity by the time L was done with him.

A door opened downstairs.

L frowned, casting a half-worried glance over his shoulder towards the sound. The footsteps were light and energetic. Not Light, then. It was most likely Sayu.

"I'm home!" An excited, girlish voice echoed through the hall and up the stairs.

That was L's cue to leave. He checked over everything once more to make sure Light wouldn't be able to tell that he'd been there. Then he slipped the Death Note back into its protective sleeve, tucked it beneath his shirt, peeled his gloves off, opened the window, and slipped from the room.

†††

About an hour later, Light realized that Ryuzaki wasn't coming. And since he no longer had the capacity to feel any more pain, disappointment, frustration, or anything else, he simply picked himself up off the bench, dusted off the seat of his pants, and began to walk home.

He didn't take the bus. If he had, he could have been home in mere minutes. But instead, he decided that he could do with the exercise; it would help him burn off all the frustration that he was definitely _not_ feeling at the moment. And so Light walked, traversing the mess of streets that would eventually lead him to his home. He didn't think about much along the way. He didn't think about Kira, for example. He didn't think about Ryuzaki's mysterious absence. And absolutely, under no circumstances, did he think about the sense of hurt that was beginning to intensify deep within him.

_Ryuzaki promised to be there,_ a part of him insisted.

_Don't be stupid,_ another part answered. _He never promised to be there. He implied that he'd find you after you graduated, he never specified when. All you're doing is getting offended over a promise that took place entirely in your own mind._

_Still…_ that first part insisted. _It's insulting. I thought I'd found someone like me, who would understand how important it was for geniuses to stick with others of their kind. He should know how awful it feels to traverse this world with a sense of great boredom, and then to find someone—another genius—who is able to alleviate that boredom, only to have them disappear. So, then, why the hell would he just abandon me entirely? It's foolish. It doesn't make sense._

_Don't be an idiot. You're feeling upset over nothing. Who cares about the panda-faced freak?_

_I'm not upset over nothing. I'm upset over something that is entirely logical, thank you very much. Feeling frustrated because of Ryuzaki's absence is completely understandable. Maybe if he'd just stayed with me like he was supposed to, I wouldn't have to feel like this._

_You sound like a lovesick girl._

Light stopped in his tracks, immediately apologizing when someone behind him was forced to dodge out of the way. He swiftly began walking again, hoping his momentary pause hadn't looked too strange. He did _not_ sound like a lovesick girl, or a lovesick anything else for that matter. Mildly enjoying the company of another genius, then becoming frustrated when he was gone, did not mean that he was in love with him. It did not make him lovesick. It made him normal.

Which was frustrating, because Light Yagami did not enjoy being normal.

He swiftly drew his mind away from such impure thoughts and put his full attentions to returning home before it became dark. He'd lingered more than he'd hoped to, and seeing as the exit exam had finished later than it was supposed to, he was already heading back quite later than usual.

It took another thirty minutes to reach home. Light entered the house, calling out, "Mom, Sayu, I'm home!"

There was no response.

Hmm…that was strange. Light moved further into the house. The lights were all off, much to his confusion. He distinctly remembered his mother telling him that she would be home early that day, and he didn't recall Sayu telling him anything about going to a friend's house. _Maybe this is good,_ he thought. _I can leave a note about going to a friend's house and head out to the forest early today. I'll continue killing criminals, and when I get back they should be here waiting._ Light walked into the kitchen, searching for any sort of note that might inform him of his mother and sister's location. There was nothing. Feeling slightly unnerved, he retrieved a piece of paper and a pencil from one of the drawers and began to write.

He wrote, _I'm going to_

Then he stopped. He tried to continue, but he couldn't make his hand move. He laid down the pencil. He glanced around briefly. He had that same feeling now as he did back in the forest on the night he'd done nothing but play chess. He felt as if he was being watched—and not by cameras. Or perhaps this wasn't the feeling that he was being watched, but the feeling that there was something wrong in general. The note, still with only three words written (and in a rather shaky hand, Light noted) was left forlornly on the table as he retreated. That feeling of uneasiness wasn't going away. The house was overly quiet. The air felt still. He remembered vaguely that old saying…what had it been?

Oh, yes—this felt like the calm before the storm.

Abandoning the kitchen, Light slipped up the stairs and into his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

†††

A few miles away, seated in his chair before his computer monitor, L nodded approvingly. He took a moment more to make sure that Light was locked away in his room and unwilling to leave before he closed the surveillance software and turned in his seat. The task force was at work behind him, still busy cataloguing Kira's victims and searching for general trends.

"Stop working," he commanded, slipping into monotone.

The task force immediately looked up, surprised. "Stop?" Matsuda echoed in that typical airheaded way of his. "Why do you want us to stop, Ryuzaki?"

"I want you to come with me. There's something that you should see."

More confused glances. Soichiro cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping up to his position of chief of the NPA. "Would you like to clarity that?" he asked gruffly.

"It's confidential," L responded shortly. "It's safer for all of us that you don't know until we arrive." Mostly, it was safer for L, because if Soichiro figured out what L was about to do, he'd never let him do it. "Now, are you just going to sit there, or are you going to come with me? We have to move quickly.

They all looked to Soichiro for his response. Even though L was the head of the team, the task force still held a frustrating amount of respect for the man's leadership. Said man glanced around him uncomfortably, clearly weighing the positives and negatives of going against L. But he seemed to know that going against the detective was a bad idea, and so after much deliberation, he finally said, "Fine, then. Gentlemen, let's go."

And just like that, they were under L's thumb once again. The detective fished his phone from his pocket, opened it, dialed a number, and waited.

" _Yes, Ryuzaki?"_

"It's time, Watari. Set the gears in motion."

_"As you wish, L."_

†††

L piled all the task force members into his limo, then ordered Watari to drive to "the formerly disclosed location." He would not let the task force know where they were going, lest Soichiro become adamant about knowing why they were going to his house. But he _did_ want him and the task force to be there to witness what was about to happen. He wanted to form a crack in Soichiro's resolve, to make him doubt, if only for a moment, that his son was innocent. The rest of the task force was just coming along for the ride. L had no doubt that Soichiro would become livid once he realized what was going on. But if such a thing were to happen, then Watari had been ordered to sedate the man. He would not be allowed to hurt anyone.

"Ryuzaki?" Soichiro questioned as the limo pulled into the entrance to his neighborhood. "Why are we here?"

He was beginning to sound nervous. Perhaps he suspected where they were going, as a sort of fatherly intuition. "I've told you, Mr. Yagami," L responded dryly. "I won't tell you for safety reasons. You'll just have to wait and see, just like everybody else."

He was clearly displeased, but said nothing more. He hadn't exactly come to like L over the week they'd been working together, much to L's irritation. He was beginning to question of the story in the Death Note had been right about inviting Light's father to the investigation. He was almost more trouble than he was worth. Almost.

They were almost there. L had a team of his own police officers at the ready, already waiting around Light's house. They would move on his word and his word alone—Soichiro had no power over them. He'd already had his officers remove Sayu and Sachiko from the home, feeding them some garbage story about a bomb threat in the area. They'd been escorted away and assured that nothing would happen to them. They were concerned—and rightly so—but they would be perfectly fine. L didn't wish for them to be on the scene when their family member was forcefully arrested. He wanted to arrest Light, not scar the female members of his family for life. Soichiro, of course, had no knowledge of this occurrence.

"Is everything set up?" L called up to Watari for the nth time.

"Yes, Ryuzaki, everything is ready to go," Watari responded patiently. "On your word, the men will move in."

Soichiro perked up at this. "Do you mean that you have police officers ready to move in?" he asked. He was no doubt thinking that if they were police officers, he would be able to use his word over L's to force them to tell him what was going on.

"They are my own personal police force, so I would appreciate your remaining uninvolved with them," was L's clipped response. "They will not listen to you."

"And you got approval for that?" Soichiro asked, sounding unconvinced. "From the Japanese government?"

L lied. "Yes."

Watari broke in. "Sir, we're here."

"Ah, excellent." The limo drew to a halt, and L was immediately springing from it. Watari was standing beside him in an instant, handing him a mask and a bulletproof vest. L donned both, vaguely irritated by the coarse material of the mask. It was purely for safety reasons. He wouldn't want Light, in his panic, to make a deal for the shinigami eyes and proceed to kill him. Until he was secure, he wouldn't reveal his face.

"Ryuzaki!" Soichiro snapped, and L realized that the members of the task force had exited the vehicle. "I would appreciate it if you would tell me just what the hell we're doing outside my house!"

And now the ball dropped. L grasped his transmitter, which was clipped firmly to his belt, and spoke into it. "Move in," he instructed calmly, making sure his voice was being sufficiently scrambled. "I want all doors and windows covered, and a team of twenty men inside the house as soon as possible. Don't let him escape, and make sure you get your hands on the evidence we discussed earlier." He lowered the transmitter for a moment before, feeling a rather startling streak of malicious sadism, adding, "Oh, and to all those going into the house—don't be gentle with him. Don't hurt him severely, of course, but I want you to show him that we're serious."

There was no response, but L knew that they'd heard him when his officers slunk from the shadows and began their attack.

"Ryuzaki!" Soichiro cried again, this time much more agitated. He stared in horror as the police officers seemingly appeared form nowhere and began storming his house. He took an aggressive step towards L and was immediately halted by two of L's agents, stepping up behind him and taking him forcefully by the arms.

L nodded in thanks before speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, Mr. Yagami, but I've been lying to you and the task force."

"What?" Matsuda broke in, sounding remarkably heartbroken. "You were lying this whole time? About what, Ryuzaki?"

"The truth is, I have a prime suspect," he said in a low tone, vaguely noting that his agents had broken down the door and were flooding into the house in search of their target. Light was no doubt feeling very concerned right about now. "I've been watching him for about two weeks now, and I've become very convinced that he's the person we're looking for."

"You didn't tell us," Aizawa remarked coldly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" L gestured to Soichiro's home, out of which some very interesting noises were now emanating. It sounded like some of the officers had knocked a few things out of place. The home would no doubt be left in disarray. "I didn't tell you because it was a conflict of interests for Soichiro."

The chief of the NPA appeared not to hear him. He was too busy staring up at the house in horror as more and more officers flooded into it. He appeared too horrorstruck to move, unable to act to stop what was happening. "You…" he whispered, before apparently losing his train of thought. "Who is it?" he rasped. "Your prime suspect…who is it who would be such a source of conflicted interest for me?"

"I thought that would have been obvious," L said, just to torment the man a little further. He vaguely noted that his sadistic streak was getting out of control, and that he should make efforts to contain it. "Sayu is far too young and innocent to begin offing criminals in such an intelligent and methodical way, and Sachiko is the same way. Obviously it's not you that I'm after, otherwise you would already be locked away."

And just like that, Soichiro snapped. He thrashed, attempting to leap forward in an attempt to strangle L, but he got nowhere. The agents tightened their hold, and he was immediately stopped. "Ryuzaki!" he roared, struggling futilely. "Don't you dare tell me that your suspect—!"

"Yes," L murmured. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Yagami, but the suspect is—"

A voice, high pitched and comfortingly familiar rang out. "What the hell are you doing? Get your hands off me!" Ah…it had been far too long since L had heard that voice in person.

"Light!" Soichiro cried out, once again throwing himself against L's officers. "Light!"

The teen immediately looked up, and Soichiro's consequent gasp was audible.

It appeared that L's agents had succeeded in removing Light from the house. However, it appeared as if he'd put up a fight. There was blood dripping from a split lip, and his eye was visibly swollen. Someone had punched him. L felt a sick sense of victory, seeing the grimace that emerged on Light's face as the officers wrenched him violently from the house. Behind that victory, he thought that there might have been a shred of protectiveness, of concern that Light had ben injured—but the sense of sadistic triumph overwhelmed him, and he found himself reveling in the sight of the teen, broken down so perfectly. Although his eye and lip were the only injuries L could see at the current moment in time, the rumpled state of Light's clothing and the tight grip the agents had on his arms and torso hinted at a sprawling expanse of purpling skin beneath the elegant wrapping.

Light looked up, and there was no recognition in his eyes. It was to be expected, of course, seeing as L was masked and wearing a vest that hid his white shirt. "Father!" he cried out, eyes immediately locking onto the familiar face. "Father, what is this? What's going on?" There was an unreadable expression on his face; a mix of fear and something that L couldn't quite understand. The teen was terrified, that was to be sure. His eyes were wide, hair tousled, clothing in disarray…he was the picture of betrayed innocence. L both hated and loved it.

"Sir," one of the agents holding Light began, "what do you want us to do?"

"Give me the papers you found," L instructed calmly, taking them from the officer when they were offered a moment later. Light's eyes immediately widened even further as he heard Ryuzaki's voice. No doubt he was trying to figure out where he'd heard that voice before. "Bring him here."

The agents tugged Light forward, ignoring his frantic struggling, and threw him at L's feet. His hands were unbound, L noted. His movement was unhampered. L intended to change that.

The teen coughed, the breath having been knocked out of him when he was thrown to the ground. He pushed himself to his knees, and L realized that Kira was kneeling before him, gasping for breath, looking the most vulnerable L had ever seen him. "Light Yagami," he said, reveling in the sound of it. "You are being placed under arrest under suspicion of being Kira."

The teen's eyes widened further. "What?" he gasped. "You think…that I'm…?"

"Son, no!" Soichiro called, attempting to mend the situation. "The task force doesn't think you're Kira, it's all Ryuzaki!"

There was a short pause. Then, slowly, Light turned those amber eyes to face his captor. "Ryuzaki?" he whispered.

L groaned internally. He'd wanted to keep his identity a secret until they were away from the house, just in case Light had anything up his sleeve. But now he had no choice. "Yes, Light," he responded. A hand shot up, and the next moment his mask was being removed. His hair fell around his face, released from its prison, and once again made him recognizable. "I'm afraid that under the current circumstances, and in light of the new evidence I've discovered, I have no choice but to take you in."

The expression dancing in the teen's eyes was nothing short of devastated. But a moment later it was back under control, and Light was staring at him through guarded orbs. "Take me in?" he echoed, voice low and dark. He raised a hand and wiped at his mouth. It came away bloody. "You mean you're taking me to prison, Ryuzaki? After all this?"

L had the vague thought that "all this" hadn't really been that much. But with Light staring at him so defiantly, it was difficult to deny it. "You will not be taken to prison," he said calmly. "I would never allow such a brilliant mind to be put behind bars."

Light was hit by a visible flood of relief. "Of course not, Ryuzaki…of course you wouldn't do that. So you're going to let me go, right? You're just going to walk away. It was all a joke, right?"

He sounded calm, but L caught the tremor in his hands, the panic in his eyes. The boy was about to go into hysterics. Funny…even someone so strong as Light could be brought down by something such as this. L shot a meaningful glance at Watari, who immediately nodded and started forward. "No, Light," he continued in a murmur. "It isn't a joke." He reached out and took the syringe when Watari offered it. Then he walked to Light, making sure that he couldn't see what he was holding. It wasn't difficult; the teen had fixed his gaze on the ground and was refusing to look up.

"Ryuzaki, stop this!" Soichiro snapped. "Don't you dare take this any further!" He sounded shaken, no doubt from the realization that his son and L had already met, and were already well acquainted.

L ignored him. His earlier sadistic streak lessened just slightly as he approached Light, seeing up close the way his shoulder slumped exhaustedly, the way his expression was drawn tight. He was obviously distressed. "Light," he soothed in what he hoped was a calming tone. "You won't go to prison. You'll stay with me." His fingers closed gently but firmly around the teen's upper arm, removing it from his agents' grasp. Light didn't react. His descent into hysterics had been replaced by a sudden onset of shock, and he appeared completely unaware that L was turning his arm over and brushing over the skin, struggling to locate a vein in the dim light. He prodded the skin, and a moment later he found what he was looking for. "Relax for now," he said comfortingly. "It will all be better when you wake up." It was a lie, of course, but it seemed to be just what Light needed.

"Ryuzaki," he whimpered, and L knew that he had to be unaware of what he was saying, because there was no way he'd allow himself to sound so pathetic otherwise. "I…"

L slipped the needle beneath Light's skin and compressed the plunger. He gently removed it a moment later, watching the teen closely as the drug flooded his system. Light's skin was abnormally cold beneath his fingers, and growing colder. His breathing was erratic. His eyes were glazed. He was going into shock. For a moment longer those amber eyes tracked him, attempting to follow his every move. But it didn't take long for the drug to take effect, and soon Light's eyelids were drooping. L became aware that Soichiro was saying something, yelling something, and had been for quite some time. But he ignored him in favor of stretching his arms out just as Light collapsed. The teen fell securely into his arms, and a heartbeat later L had one arm under his neck and another beneath his knees. He straightened, Light's form completely limp in his arms. He was deeply unconscious, and would be for several hours. In that time, L intended to transport him back to the hotel. In a few days, when the official headquarters was completed, he would move him there so that they would be undisturbed by outside forces. But until then, Light would have to adapt to life in a small hotel room.

"Sir, what should we do?" one of the agents asked.

"Give the command to leave," L responded immediately. "We have what we came for." As if in confirmation, the pages crinkled against L's side. Once they were back at the hotel, he would thoroughly explain why he had taken Light into custody. He would tell them just as much as they needed to know. He turned around just as his agents released Soichiro. To his upmost relief, the man didn't immediately charge at him.

Instead, he spluttered, "Ryuzaki, why…?"

"I will explain once he is safe," L said, gesturing to Light with a shrug of his shoulders. It was the perfect excuse to leave before having to explain the situation to Light's father. After all there was no way Soichiro would say no to assuring his son's safety.

Soichiro, obviously displeased, relented. "I…I can't accept this," he growled. "But if you'll explain…"

"I will," L assured him. "Now please, let us leave this place. All will become clear in time." With that, and without waiting for Soichiro's response, L headed for the car. He slipped inside the limo, and, despite the confused glances being shot his way via the rest of the task force (who had remained surprisingly silent, L noted), he gently rested Light's body beside him, pulled his head into his lap, and settled down to wait out the drive.


	12. The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fitting title for this chapter, I think. Enjoy!

Through the entire drive to the hotel, L could feel Soichiro's gaze burning into his side. He was confused, no doubt, and upset that his boss had launched a raid on his home that ultimately ended up in his only son being drugged and forcibly removed from his home. But he kept himself quiet, much to L's appreciation, and fixed the dark-eyed detective with his piercing gaze.

L refused to look at the chief. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly glued to the unconscious figure of said chief's son, who was stretched limply across his lap. L refused to question the strange flicker of emotion that had prompted him to keep Light close to him rather than chaining him up in the back of the limo, which had an open space designed to hold the criminals L captured. He supposed that it had something to do with that dream he'd had, or the strange emotions he'd been feeling in the past week.

"Ryuzaki," Watari broke in from the front seat, "I must remind you that you're handling a suspected criminal, and should be following proper protocol. Your current behavior is unprofessional and possibly detrimental to your health."

He sounded upset, though it was carefully masked. L was more than aware that Watari, though willing to go along with his plan, was skeptical at best about Light being Kira. He was already irritated by L's sudden infatuation with Light, and he was no doubt even more upset that the detective was treating the Kira suspect with so much more care than normal. He was still right, of course…it was much safer for L to treat Light according to proper protocol. Resting his head in his lap and running his hands through his hair was hardly professional behavior.

"Ryuzaki," Watari warned again. "If I need to pull over and do what you cannot, then I will not hesitate to do so."

"No, no," L insisted with a silent sigh. "I'll handle it." L ignored Soichiro's piercing gaze as he reached into the pocket of his jeans, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs with a drastically shortened chain. Then, still ignoring Soichiro's glare, he reached down and gently grasped Light's arm, bringing it up and snapping one end of the cuffs over his wrist. He tightened it until the metal bit into the skin, once again feeling just a tiny flicker of smugness as he realized that he'd won. But he couldn't focus on it at the current moment—and so, pushing such thoughts out of his mind, he reached for Light's other arm and tightened the remaining cuff around his wrist. Then he reached beneath his seat and opened the compartment. His fingers closed immediately around the hearing protection, the blindfold, and the gag, and he began to take them out—but when he saw the way Soichiro was leering, he knew that it would most likely benefit him to do such things to Light when he wasn't under Soichiro's scathing glare. The poor man had already been pushed to the edge; to suddenly begin blindfolding and gagging his son would probably send him beyond his limit. L raised his head to Watari, calling out, "I believe the rest should wait, Watari."

The inventor paused, glancing behind him. "Yes," he observed reluctantly, "You're probably right. I wouldn't want you to be hurt. And in any case, we're already here."

"Oh?" L looked out the window and saw that his former mentor was correct. They'd reached the hotel. "You've made the necessary arrangements?" L asked.

Watari answered, "I have. The staff will not bother you about taking Light inside in his current state."

"Good," L murmured. "I'd hate to have the police called on me because I'm dragging an unconscious teenager into a hotel…"

That probably hadn't been the best choice of words, if Soichiro's strangled gasp had anything to say about it.

The limo stopped, much to L's relief. He scooped Light up carefully and slid out of the vehicle, followed shortly by Watari and the task force. In no time at all they were in the hotel room L had been staying in, and L knew that an explanation would soon be in order.

"Well?" Soichiro demanded, eyes nearly popping out of his head from the force of his repressed anger. "Are you going to tell us just what the hell is going on?"

L, rather taken aback by the chief's language, took a moment to respond. "Let me place Light somewhere he will be comfortable," he said at last. "After that, I will answer all of your questions without hesitation."

"But—!"

"Chief Yagami, please. It will not take long, and I don't want Light to wake up while we're talking." L waited only long enough for Light's father to nod before he turned and left, leaving the task force to Watari's care for the next several minutes.

L pushed open the door to his room. He'd have to share a room with the younger Yagami for the time being, so this was a more than acceptable place to confine him for now. L maneuvered Light over to the bed and placed him upon it, leaving him momentarily to retrieve the necessary equipment from the duffel bag so carelessly shoved under the bed. He removed exact copies of the hearing protection, blindfold, and gag that he'd had in the car, then returned to Light's side. It took a matter of seconds for him to undo the handcuffs holding his wrists together, then a few seconds more for him to secure each wrist to one of the wooden spokes that made up the headboard and each ankle to one of the bedposts. Next, he grasped the hearing protection and covered Light's ears, effectively making sure that he wouldn't be able to overhear anything being said outside if he were to wake up unexpectedly. After that he tied a strip of cloth around the teen's eyes, hampering his sight, then pulled another taut between his teeth, eliminating his ability to speak. His work done, L began to draw back, fingers momentarily brushing across his victim's neck. For just a moment he remembered his dream, recalling how he'd whispered sweet poison into Light's ear, telling him how lovely he'd looked with his throat partially covered with leather. But the thought was immediately vanquished as L recalled the utter horror of the dream, recalled the nausea that had assaulted him shortly after awakening. He beat such base desires down, refusing himself the pleasure of acting on them. Desires, he was convinced, that he did _not_ have.

Light shifted suddenly in his sleep, making the chains rattle. For just a moment his breath hitched, but the next moment it had settled back into its soft pattern. L was terribly convinced to stay, to remain with Light and watch him. Perhaps he would dream, and say something in his sleep that would incriminate him. But he knew that the task force was waiting, and that if he kept them waiting any longer, Soichiro might come after him with a weapon. And if he found Light like this, gagged and bound…

L shuddered. He didn't want to imagine the aftermath of such a situation. And so he left the room (but not, of course, before one last brush of his fingers through Light's hair) and reentered the room where the task force was waiting.

Soichiro immediately opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but L beat him to it. "Forgive me," he said softly. "I have not been entirely honest with you for these past few weeks. You see, I have suspected Light for quite some time now, but I never told you because I feared that you would be unwilling to listen to me. I speak mostly to you, Mr. Yagami, when I say that I know you do not like me very much. Should I have begun openly investigating your son, I have no doubt that you would have immediately withdrawn your support from the investigation. And as much as I fail to acknowledge it aloud, I do wish for your support, Mr. Yagami."

The chief looked away sharply, and the gazes of all the task force members followed him. "You should have told us," he said gruffly. "You shouldn't have gone behind our backs. You claim to want our help, but you don't give us the information necessary to do anything! And then you have the nerve to drag us out into the night, without any sort of warning…and you have the _nerve_ to ransack my house and hurt my son…"

"I am sorry," L said, though he was not sorry at all. "But I believe that he is Kira."

There was a long pause. Then, _"What?"_

"How can you say that, Ryuzaki?"

"You can't be serious!"

"There's no way that Light is Kira!"

L calmly listened to their protests. "I have found evidence that suggests otherwise."

"What kind of evidence?" Soichiro snarled, stepping forward menacingly.

L held up the papers he'd had his officers take from Light's desk. "These papers were found during a search of Light's room," he said. "They were hidden in a false drawer in Light's desk, and if you look at them carefully, you'll find that they contain a full list of Kira's victims."

"So what?" Aizawa broke in, interrupting the chief before he could begin. "He's always been interested in police work. How do you know he's not just keeping a record of those who have been killed, just like us?"

L flipped to the last page and held it out to the task force, displaying the final few names. "There are several names on this list that are not past victims," he murmured. "They have not been killed yet. They are criminals who have not yet died. This suggests that Light has some prior knowledge of who will die and who will not."

"That doesn't make him Kira!" Matsuda threw in. "He's, like…really smart, right? So maybe he just predicted what was going to happen!"

"There are hundreds of criminals who have the potential to be executed by Kira," L clarified, satisfied that the conversation was going the exact way he needed it to. "It is highly unlikely that Light predicted those that were going to die next."

"Hang on a second!" Matsuda protested once more. "Those criminals haven't died yet, right? You said that they hadn't! So how do you know that they're going to die at all?"

"That's the issue, now, isn't it?" L questioned. "If those criminals die, we can say with at least a modicum of certainty that Light is, at the very least, connected to Kira. Of course, there is always the possibility that he somehow managed to predict Kira's next killings…but I think we can say that that is drastically unlikely."

"What happens if they don't die?" Soichiro demanded, a flicker of hope in his deadened eyes. "Will you release my son?"

"If they do not die, then yes, I will let Light go." But of course, the criminals would die. L knew that they would, because he'd killed them himself. "Let's give it three days. If at the end, the criminals still haven't died, I will gladly return your son to your care. But until then, he will stay with me. I intend to keep him under twenty-four hour surveillance."

Soichiro shifted uncomfortably. He was backed into a corner, courtesy of L, and was unable to continue arguing against something that was so obviously the correct course of action. He had no choice but to relent. "Ryuzaki…if I am going to be forced to leave my son in your care, then at least do me the courtesy of assuring me that he'll be well cared for."

L thought, with a heavy dose of amusement, that Light was hardly going to be "well taken care of" in Soichiro's sense of the phrase. But still, he agreed, "Yes, Mr. Yagami. I can assure you that for as long as your son is in my care, I will assure that he is not treated inhumanely."

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That means that I expect him to be properly fed and be given a reasonable amount of rest. And I expect that he won't be _chained_ like a common criminal! If you insist upon binding him in handcuffs, then you'll make sure that the chain is comfortably long, not like those atrocities that you locked around his wrists in the limo. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes," L said carelessly, thinking to himself that he would be following none of Soichiro's directions. "I assure you that he will be treated with the upmost care. I will not lay a hand on him." This was also a lie. A terrible, blatant lie. "Is that all of your demands? If so, then I would ask that you leave this place for the night. Sayu and Sachiko will be returning home soon, Mr. Yagami, and you must be there to explain what happened. They were removed from their home under the pretense of a bomb threat, you see, and I will be ordering my officers to release them in a few minutes. If you hurry, you can beat them home."

"You removed my family from their home?" Soichiro gasped, one hand rising to clutch at his chest in an amusingly dramatic gesture.

"Would you rather I have left them there to watch as Light was taken away?"

"I…I suppose not," the man responded painfully.

L turned in his chair, eyes drawn to the darkened window. "It's okay, Mr. Yagami," he muttered. "I don't expect you to thank me. However, you should leave now if you wish to take advantage of the situation. You should return home and think of an excuse for Light's absence."

Soichiro turned away from L, shoulders visibly tense. He didn't speak.

"Um…chief?" Aizawa asked, sounding concerned. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "But I think I'll be following Ryuzaki's advice."

"You're going to leave Light?" Matsuda asked in a bewildered tone. "You're just going to… _leave_ him here?"

"We don't have a choice," the man ground out. "L has power over all the world's police forces. If I refuse and attempt to take Light with me, he'll have me fired, or at least temporarily removed from the NPA."

It seemed as if them man finally understood. "Very true," L affirmed, almost smirking as he saw Matsuda's horrified look. No doubt he looked like a demon to the innocent detective. "Thank you for understanding, Chief Yagami."

Soichiro didn't respond save for a short nod of his head. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he said to the other members of the task force, sounding overly tired. "I need to get home to my wife and daughter." He turned, and the next moment he was gone.

"Ryuzaki…?" Aizawa questioned.

The detective shook his head. "Leave me, please. Light will be perfectly safe, and you need your rest. Please arrive on time tomorrow to continue working." The comment was largely directed at Matsuda, who had been late several times before.

Matsuda flushed deeply. "Of course!"

The other detectives gave short nods, and were gone with in the next minute. They were clearly glad to leave the horrific scene behind.

L was left alone. Watari was in his office, and wouldn't be coming out any time soon—and so the dark-eyed detective was left to himself. He rose, wincing as the bones in his ankles cracked, and began plodding to the bedroom, where he knew Light would be waiting.

†††

Light's awakening was slow and dark. His senses returned haltingly and one at a time, proving for an incredibly disorientating experience.

The first sense to come back was his sense of smell. He could smell a strange scent in the air, one strangely familiar to him. He frowned deeply and inhaled, wincing as a sharp pain seared across his ribs with the motion of his lungs. Oh…he was _sore._ He was sore _everywhere._ He breathed in slower, attempting to ease the pain. When he finally succeeded, and the flashes of agony faded to a dull burn, he focused on the smell once more. Hmm…linen? Laundry detergent? It was strong, flooding his senses, as if another smell was being covered up—but Light couldn't place the smell to any specific place.

A few minutes later, he regained his sense of hearing. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate—more appropriately, he realized that he couldn't hear anything. Everything sounded washed out, as if he were trying to partake in a whispered conversation on the seaside. He knew that something was happening around him, but it was all… _faded_. Perhaps he was wearing earplugs, but until the fog over his brain cleared, he wouldn't be able to think it through enough to tell.

Next, he became aware that he was blindfolded. There was a soft cloth over his eyes, tied tight around the back of his head. Opening his eyes would be futile, just as attempting to listen to the world around him would bring nothing but irritation. He opened his mouth slightly with the intent of calling out for help, but that only granted him the ability to tell that he'd been gagged. And his mind was so clouded…where was he? How had he gotten here? What had happened? He remembered pain…he'd been struck? And a sense of numbness, spreading through him at an alarming rate, before darkness took him into its welcoming arms. Everything else was a blank, and no matter how much Light attempted to free himself from the haze, he was pulled back under a moment after gaining a heartbeat of clear thought.

In what could have either have been hours or minutes, Light regained his ability to feel the world around him. It wasn't comforting, however, due to the fact that the instant he regained his final sense, he realized just how imprisoned he really was. He felt metal biting into his wrists and ankles, and when he tried to move, nothing gave. He was chained to something. He felt soft linen beneath his fingers, beneath his body, and he knew that he was lying in a bed. He felt something pressing in around his ears, and he understood that someone had removed his ability to hear via a set of large, clunky headphones. And finally, _finally,_ he felt the true extent of the pain, and it made him gasp.

God…he felt like he'd been through a _blender._ His ribs were even more sore than he'd originally thought, his shoulders were stiff from being held in the same place for what was presumably hours, his neck was uncomfortably sore, and his head…his head felt as if it had been filled with cotton. Cotton that was, much to Light's dismay, afflicted with the most agonizing headache he'd ever had. His head hurt terribly, the pain concentrating at the back of his skull as if he'd been harshly struck. What had _happened_ to him? He tried to move again and immediately gasped, unable to control his vocalizations as a tremor of pure agony shook him. Should it hurt this badly? Why did it hurt so much? Why was he in so much pain? Why couldn't he remember? From the feel of it, he'd sustained a serious blow to the head. Was that why? A jolt of panic gripped him, and he immediately tried to wrench himself free out of pure instinct. But all his efforts produced was a loud, terrible whimper, ripping its way from his throat.

And then there were hands—someone was _touching_ him, brushing their fingers up his sides until they were resting on either side of his head. A voice rumbled in his ears, though he couldn't make out what the voice was saying because of the hearing protection. The touch frightened him, no matter how much he wanted to remain impassive, and he felt his breathing speed against his will—which only pressed painfully against his bruised ribs, prompting even more small noises to fall from his lips, which just made him breathe faster—and he couldn't make the loop stop.

_Damn it,_ he thought, panicked in a way he would not admit. _Come on, Light, get yourself under control…you're going to be okay…you'll remember soon, and it will all be okay…_

That voice rumbled again, and the next moment those hands were on his chest, soothing over the rumpled material of Light's shirt. There was another rumble, and then a hand was gone, and Light felt a sudden tug on the headphones covering his ears.

And then, just like that, the world opened up around him. He could hear; the hearing protection had been removed.

"There," the voice murmured. "That's better. You can hear me now, right? You're conscious?"

Light vaguely recognized the voice, but his mind was still too cloudy to be certain. He forced out a disorientated nod.

"Good…" the voice whispered soothingly. "Now, calm down…you need to calm down…you're going to keep hurting yourself if you breathe so deeply."

Light knew the voice was right, but it was so difficult to calm himself. His composure was gone, and he was struggling to get it back. He was scared. He wanted to remember what had happened. He attempted to voice this, but all that got out was a series of light groans.

The voice sounded amused. It was growing clearer, and Light thought that he might recognize it. "Good…keep your breathing steady. Now, this is how this is going to work, Light. I'll remove your blindfold, and if you can keep yourself from yelling at me, I'll remove your gag as well. Is that okay?"

Another forced nod, and cool fingers were at his eyes, tugging at the soft cloth. A moment later it was falling away, and Light forced his eyes open. The lights were turned down low, but even still it was difficult to adjust. But when he did, he was met with a familiar but infuriating sight.

Dark hair. Even darker eyes. White shirt. Worn jeans. No shoes.

Ryuzaki.

And just like that, it all came flooding back. Light remembered it all. He'd been in his room, worrying about his mother and sister's absence, when he'd heard the commotion. He'd heard the door being kicked open, then a flood of footsteps, and an even larger flood of yelling. They sounded like police officers…but why were they in his home? Light, immediately concerned, had headed for his door with the intent of figuring out what was happening. But then he'd paused, realizing that if he'd been discovered as Kira…he could be about to die. He'd backed up, the first flickers of panic rising within him, just as his door flew open. They'd flooded into his room then—a massive surge of officers. And Light, being the son of the chief, wasn't overly frightened of being harmed by them. He'd opened his mouth to ask, to question why they were there. But he hadn't gotten a word out before they struck. One of them immediately grabbed his arm, and when Light protested, he was immediately struck across the face. He hadn't been expecting it, obviously, and had immediately been driven into a state of shock. And the officers, taking advantage of his momentary surprise, had immediately grabbed him—by the other arm, by the neck, by the waist—and in a heartbeat he was slammed against the wall and pinned without any chance of escape. His already injured cheek struck the wall painfully, and his lip split. He could taste the blood. He'd attempted to draw back, to ask what they were doing. But they took his movements as inflammatory, and he was immediately drawn back and slammed back against the wall. His chest exploded into horrifying pain.

After that, everything faded. He'd been aware that he was about to go into hysterics. But then his condition had swung the other way, seemingly at random, and he'd felt himself going into shock. Ryuzaki's sudden appearance on the scene was to blame for that. He remembered having a rather humiliating conversation with the detective (Light distinctly remembered being forced to his knees before the man that had become his adversary) and then there had been the light prick of a needle, and Light's whole world slipped away like sand from his fingertips.

And now, Ryuzaki was staring down at him.

"Light?" Ryuzaki questioned, cocking his head to one side. "Are you okay? Can I remove your gag without you yelling at me?"

The teen forced himself to nod once again, feeling sick to his stomach. Ryuzaki…had done this to him. He'd taken him away from his home, bound him hand and foot, fastened him to a bed…

Ryuzaki stretched one arm out and reached behind Light's head, coming frightfully close to him as he leaned across his form. When he leaned back, the gag was pinched between two fingers. The detective cast it away. "How do you feel?" he asked in monotone.

Light's voice was dry and cracked when he responded. "I-it hurts…" The moment the words were out, he cursed himself for sounding so weak.

There was a flicker of some unreadable emotion in L's eyes the moment after he spoke. Something dark. Something dangerous. But the next moment it was gone, and the detective's gaze softened considerably. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I told them—no, _ordered_ them not to hurt you, but they did so anyways. Would you like me to dose you with something to help with the pain?"

"Yes…" Light croaked. "Please…"

Ryuzaki nodded silently, pushing off the bed and riffling around in a drawer. When he came back he was grasping another syringe filled with clear liquid, and Light immediately felt a strong prickle of panic overtake him. Was he going to be put to sleep again? He didn't want that! He wanted to stay awake!

"Relax," Ryuzaki murmured, reaching for an arm. Light felt a strong sense of déjà vu as the detective prodded at his arm, working to locate a vein. Presumably he found one, for the next moment there was a dull prick, then an almost immediate flood of relief as the drug flowed through his system. "It's quite strong," Ryuzaki said in explanation. "I can't give you too much, and not too often, but for now it's perfect to assuage the worst of the pain. They beat you quite badly, you know."

"I…I can tell," Light rasped in response. "My head…feels like I was hit…by a truck."

"That's to be expected. Once again, I apologize for the rather unconventional methods of getting you here. Unfortunately, without creating a scene, your father would never have agreed with this. He had to see just how possible I believe it is that you're Kira, just how far I'm willing to go to prove it. It shook him, yes, but not so badly that he won't recover."

"My father?" Light echoed. If his father knew about this, then he would be livid. How had L ever convinced him to leave? "Is he…?"

"He's perfectly fine, and resting. I sent him home to your mother and sister. They needed an explanation as to why their house had been ransacked, and he needed to be away from here so that I could speak with you."

"I…I see." Light coughed weakly, feeling the effects of being unconscious for several hours. "Can I have something to drink?"

"Of course." Ryuzaki offered him a bottle of water from the bedside table, and much to Light's embarrassment, he had to have the detective hold it for him while he drank from it like a child. He wordlessly cleaned light's chest when some of the water spilled and dripped onto his shirt, though most of it had already seeped into the fabric. "Sorry," he apologized. "I suppose you needed to change your shirt anyways; it's a bit…bloody."

Light looked down at himself, surprised to see a spattering of blood, presumably from his split lip. As Ryuzaki got to his feet and headed for the closet, Light called, "Ryuzaki…why did you do this? Do you really believe I'm Kira this strongly?"

"Yes, Light. This is why I've done this. If the killings stop, then I have reason to believe that you are Kira."

So, it hadn't been so paranoid of him to write out hundreds of names in advance. This was good; there was no way Ryuzaki should be able to tell that he was Kira, not unless there was something he wasn't telling him. But still… "That can't be the only reason you raided my house, Ryuzaki. To do something like that, you'd need evidence. You'd need to have a reason to do it. So…what was it? What did you think you'd found?"

The detective raised a brow. "You keep a log of Kira's victims."

"Yes, of course I do. I've already told you that; I never tried to hide it."

"I know you haven't, but when we raided your house, we discovered that you'd written the names of criminals that hadn't died yet. We believe that if those criminals die like you predicted they would, then you must be connected to Kira. That is why I've taken you into custody."

Something wasn't right with that statement. It was _wrong._ Light voiced the thought, and Ryuzaki frowned.

"What's wrong about it, Light?"

"Well…" He trailed off momentarily, piecing together his thoughts. "To start, we agreed that in order to raid my home, you would need to have had evidence that I was Kira beforehand. But just now, you said that when you raided my home, you found evidence _inside the house_. You never specified what evidence you had _before_ you raided the house. It's as if…as if you _knew_ what you were going to find." He leaned forward to the best of his ability, fixing Ryuzaki with what he hoped was a piercing stare. "And I know for a fact that I never wrote anyone's name down who hadn't already died," he whispered.

"What are you insinuating?"

"I'm insinuating that it seems awfully convenient for you to find the exact evidence you needed to justify the raid exactly when you needed it. Especially when that evidence gave you the exact right amount of leverage to take me into custody without having to hand me over to the police."

"You're not being clear, Light. Tell me, as clearly as you can manage, what you're suggesting."

"I'm suggesting that you knew about this evidence before you should have, Ryuzaki. I'm suggesting that you _planted_ it."

Ryuzaki simply stared at him for a moment longer, flickers of unreadable emotion in his eyes. Then he smiled a small smile and said, "You're too intelligent for your own good, Light, but you're wrong this time. I didn't plant the evidence. And if you'll think back a few minutes, I never agreed that I had to have evidence _before_ the raid. I'm not exactly a conventional detective, as you've no doubt figured out over the past weeks. The truth is, I had no evidence. I only had my gut feeling, and it turned out to be correct. And now that I have evidence, my moves can be justified."

It was yet another piece to the strange puzzle that was Ryuzaki. Just how powerful was he that he was able to do such things? It only strengthened Light's earlier suspicion that he was working for L in some way. "So you're saying that you planted the evidence?"

"I'm saying no such thing. I'm saying that I launched the raid, and that you just so happened to have carried out a few killings at an inconvenient time, Kira."

"I'm not Kira!"

"Of course not, Light. It was a slip of the tongue." Ryuzaki moved back to the bed, holding a clean shirt, jeans, and boxers. He then moved to the top handcuffs, the ones holding his hands above his head, and undid them. The teen immediately drew his hands to his chest, rubbing his sores wrists and eyeing the red rings that marked the honeyed flesh. Ryuzaki threw the shirt at him. "Change," he ordered.

Light blinked, taken aback. "Aren't you going to release my legs and let me into the bathroom?" he demanded. "I don't want to change in front of you!"

"You are my prime suspect. You'll have to accept that I'll be watching you constantly, even when you're changing. And I will not release your legs—what if you try to run and escape me?"

Light looked away irritably. "Fine…can you at least look away for a moment? Just a moment, that's all."

"I'm afraid not."

Light fought back the blush coloring his cheeks. He drew the fresh shirt closer to himself—a long sleeved black garment, he noted—and reached for the hem of his bloodied shirt with an embarrassed huff. He yanked it off, and, trying to ignore the way Ryuzaki's gaze flickered up and down his torso, pulled the new shirt on over his head. "There," he huffed. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," he said shortly. He reattached Light' wrists to the headboard before moving to his feet and unchaining his ankles. "Change into these," he ordered again, lying a pair of worn jeans (probably Ryuzaki's) and a pair of black and blue plaid boxers (also probably Ryuzaki's) on the bed.

Light stared, incredulous. "How am I supposed to change when you've chained my arms?"

Ryuzaki frowned as if he'd just thought of the problem himself, thought the mischievous glint in his eyes said otherwise. "You have a good point, Light. I suppose I'll have to help you."

"What?" Light yelped. "No, Ryuzaki, just unchain my hands for a moment! You'll be watching the whole time, so there's no way I'll have the chance to do anything!"

"I'm afraid I can't risk that," was the dry response. His hands moved to Light's belt, and those cool, nimble fingers made short work of said belt and the fastenings on his pants. "Don't worry, Light," he assured him, hooking his fingers into his belt loops. "I'll be gentle."

Light fought back a hysterical giggle, suddenly struck with the utter absurdity of the situation. Surely Ryuzaki knew how suggestive he sounded…right?

The detective didn't respond to Light's frantic giggling. Instead, he began to tug on his belt loops, shimmying the teen's jeans down his legs, flinging them aside and leaving him in his boxers. His fingertips hooked around the waistband of those boxers, and Light immediately protested.

"Come on, Ryuzaki, can't you just—"

But all protesting was immediately cut off as L yanked his undergarments off him in a single yank, leaving him completely bare.

Light was mortified. He immediately tried to move to cover himself, but his hands were still chained firmly above his head. "Ryuzaki!" he complained breathlessly. "Please don't—!"

Ryuzaki didn't answer. He simply grasped the fresh pair of boxers and began pulling them up Light's legs until he was fully covered once again (though it was painfully obvious that his gaze had lingered for just a moment too long). The next moments the new pair of jeans was being pulled up, and Ryuzaki's fingers were back at the fastenings. When he retreated, Light's clothing was fully changed. "There," he said, sounding overly satisfied. "I hope you're not too uncomfortable, Light, because this is how we're going to have to do things for quite a while."

"What?" Light screeched, struggling against the chains as Ryuzaki fastened his ankles back to the bed once again. "You're kidding! What about when I need to use the restroom?"

"I'll accompany you, of course. And your hands will be bound, so—"

" _Don't_ take that one letter further!" the teen snarled, lips drawing up in a furious sneer to challenge the detective beside him. It had the opposite effect, though, as Ryuzaki's gaze immediately softened.

"Don't worry," he murmured, fingertips lingering on Light's chest. "I'm the only one who will ever see you like that."

Why the hell did he have to sound so suggestive? Did he even know he was doing it? "Please…" he whispered, momentarily abandoning his pride. "I want to move, Ryuzaki…please let me go."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. What if you have some way of killing that involves the use of your hands or feet?"

"Ryuzaki!" Light complained, giving him his best doe eyes, forming his lips into a pout.

That strange emotion was back in the detective's eyes. "I would advise you to stop that, or there may be unforeseen consequences. I will not succumb to your begging, no matter how pleasing it may be to hear."

_Pleasing…?_

"Ryu—"

"No, Light. You will stay here, bound, and if you refuse to stay quiet then I will gag you. It's that simple. Now, will you behave?"

Light was forced, for the nth time that night, to swallow his pride before he could allow himself to nod. "Yes," he whispered, seeing that Ryuzaki was waiting for a verbal response. "I'll… _behave."_

"Good. You should know that in three days, if those criminals whose names are written in your records do not die, you'll be released."

"Really? I'll be out in three days?"

"Only if the criminals do not die, Light. And I have a sneaking suspicion that they will."

Hearing those words, Light felt the strong urge to curl up on his side to escape his new reality—but despite his faint struggling, the chains kept him stretched out flat on his back. He wanted to cry, though he would never allow himself to show such painful weakness.

Ryuzaki seemed to understand. He climbed up onto the bed beside the teen and settled into that signature crouch of his, leaning over Light and staring him in the eyes.

"Could you…stop that?" Light requested reluctantly, struggling to find the correct words under the detective's intense stare. "I just want to forget about this, Ryuzaki…I want to rest some more."

"Your eyes are shiny, Light. Are you about to cry?"

"Ryuzaki—"

"If you are, that's okay. I will wipe away your tears, if you wish. You are in an unfamiliar situation, and you are scared. It would be unnatural for you not to cry, especially seeing as you are still so young."

"I'm eighteen," Light pointed out. "I'm not a child."

"I never said you were a child. I said you were young."

Light averted his eyes, struggling to block out the presence of the prying detective. "Stop that," he bit out, cursing the pathetic sound of his own voice. Something about Ryuzaki…something about this situation…it made him feel broken. Bare.

"I apologize." L turned away, moving so that he was crouching parallel to Light rather than over him. "You can sleep now, if you want. I know that the drug from earlier is still wearing off; you must be tired."

Light nodded, knowing that his eyes must have looked especially shiny at that moment in time. They felt damp. "Yes…I'd like that." He closed his eyes, partially to escape Ryuzaki and partially out of genuine exhaustion. For a long moment, the room was quiet. But then, slowly, he heart the shifting of cloth—and then he felt something in his hair.

It was…a hand? Yes, that's what it was…Ryuzaki was touching him. Light's eyes fluttered open momentarily, and he saw it. Though Ryuzaki wasn't watching him, he'd stretched out one hand—and that hand was settled in his hair, fingers woven into the amber strands and massaging gently. The detective's movements were calm and soothing, and beautifully methodical. And Light, struggling to deny how good it felt, clung to the movements like an anchor. It felt…nice. Better than anything else he'd experienced that day. Being with Ryuzaki, even like this…was nicer than it should have been. It made him feel better than it should have. It also made him feel worse than it should have. That was just how Ryuzaki was—he was a walking, talking paradox. And Light abhorred it.

"Ryu…" Light murmured sleepily, not having the energy to speak his companion's full name.

"Yes, Light?"

"I hate you." He felt the hand still in his hair. "But…thank you for at least _attempting_ to help." And how absurd it was, for him to be thanking the man that had him bound to his bed.

"Of course, Light. I promised your father that I would take care of you. And while I may not be doing it the way he imagined it, I will certainly keep you as comfortable as possible."

Light shook his head, eyes growing heavier. He felt something at his arm again—a pinch, then a light flood of liquid—and he realized somehow, through the haze, that Ryuzaki had just injected him with something else. Something to keep him asleep, longer this time? More medicine for the lingering pain? Light couldn't bring himself to care.

A moment later, he was out.

†††

L was troubled by his newfound urges. He was not used to wishing for such primal, carnal things—but when he found Light, lying stretched out and in pain, he felt the terrifying urge to pounce on him like a starved predator. It was wrong. It was wrong in more ways than he could count—and still, the urge was there. And then he saw the teen flinching, recoiling, whimpering weakly in pain, and he could barely restrain himself. He was of two minds of the situation. The first part urged, in soft, mellow tones, to caress Light's cheek and comfort him as he returned to the waking world. The other part—the part that was beginning to scare him—snarled at him, ordering him to lunge forward and snap his teeth into Light's neck viciously. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to care for him. He wanted to spray his blood across the floor. He wanted to protect him.

"No, no…" he whispered aloud. "It's wrong…why can't I just forget this, go back to the way things were?"

He knew Light couldn't hear him. The hearing protection was still secured over his ears. But at the sound of his voice, however faint, he began to grow visibly distressed. He thrashed against the chains momentarily, then, no doubt feeling the pain in his ribs, he ceased his movements. He gasped for breath, approaching the edge of hyperventilation, then whimpered from the pain of it all.

"Hush, now," he murmured, tracing his fingertips up Light's chest. "You'll be fine, you'll see." He rested one hand on Light's chest. "Breathe with me, now…take it easy…" He reached up and removed the hearing protection. Shortly after came the blindfold, then the gag, and then their conversation commenced.

It had gone rather well until L had the audacity to change his companion's clothing for him. He knew that it was pointless—after all, Light needed to write names to kill people, and he couldn't do so while L was watching—but still, some deep, untamable part of himself demanded it of him, and so he complied. The shirt was the easy part. Light's skin was perfectly tan, marked with occasional freckles, and his muscles, though not clearly defined, were beautiful just the same. He was beautiful in a soft way, in the way that was typical of teenagers who had not yet journeyed into the working world. The moment passed soon enough, and L moved on to the teen's pants. This was less easy. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to places where they should not have been, and it was less than easy to force them away. That strange emotion welling up within him was frightening, terrifying, and so he wasted no time in dressing Light, briefly taking in the light flush on his cheeks. He was beautiful; there was no denying it.

…Which was why it was best if L completely swallowed any desires he may have felt. Light was a teenager; his mind was not yet fully developed. He couldn't torment the boy, not in the way that had plagued his dreams as of late. He couldn't hurt him. He couldn't bind him in any ways other than he already had. He couldn't collar him. He couldn't treat him like a pet. It was for Light's own good that he repressed these newfound urges, these damnable flickers of heated flame.

Why was this happening to him? In the story in the notebook, he'd never felt anything for Light (though, he noted, there had been that rather questionable scene in the rain just before his death). Was this yet another clue to suggest that Light was innocent? Was the fact that he hadn't felt anything for the Kira suspect in the story yet another detail that was ultimately contributing to the conclusion that Light wasn't Kira? No…surely that wasn't it. L had never been wrong before, and he wouldn't be this time. There were certain things that he knew for certain, after all—and this was one of them. The sky was blue. Grass was green. Light was Kira. They were all given facts.

That is, unless a storm turned the sky gray, lack of water turned the grass brown, and it just so happened that Light wasn't Kira.

It was an endless circle of confusion and uncertainty. L didn't want to think about it any more. And so when Light was about to fall asleep, L acted on a whim, injecting him with a heavy dose of sedative. He knew that the teen would fall asleep on his own, but he wanted a good few hours of quiet before he had to face the coming storm. He was more than aware that the dose was dangerously high, and that the teen would be forced out of consciousness for hours. But Light needed the rest, and L needed the peace and quiet. And so Light slept, and L remained silent.

Unfortunately the silence proved to be counterproductive, for L just ended up thinking about Light all the more. He fond himself reaching over, running his fingertips across the teen's neck, imagining how easy it would be to slip a strip of leather around it. Imagining how easy it would be to attach a hook to that collar. Imagining how easy it would be to attach a chain to that hook. Imagining how easy it would be to take the chain in hand and pull on it, jerking Light to his knees before him. Imagining Light, prostrated before him, just like in his dream. Just like his dreams, but without any of the negative repercussions. Without L becoming evil.

Light groaned softly in his sleep, shifting, and L cursed himself for feeling the emotion that surged through him. He could not act on this. This sudden and unforgiving wave of _feeling_ was not allowed to be felt. But still…L couldn't deny how nice it would feel to hold Light down, strip him of his clothing, and—

L hissed softly, cutting off his train of thought before it could go any further. Then he leaned back against the headboard, well aware of Light's vulnerable form beside him, and drifted off to sleep.

†††

_It was_ that _dream again. L had had several iterations of the dream over the past few days, each one different than the last. But it always began and ended the same, no matter what he did during the whole escapade._

_It began, as always, with Light. He sashayed into the investigation room and came up behind L, threading his arms around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. He murmured something, something L couldn't make out, and he turned, just as he always did. Light was wearing, as always, a dark long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His wrists were chained with unconnected cuffs, as always. And as always, there was the collar. It had become the focus of the dream, L's eyes straying to it with every movement. It had horrified him at first, but now he saw the beauty in it. He saw how useful it was, saw how many ways in which he could use it to achieve his means. He would use it a different way in every dream, and this one was no exception._

_"Lawliet," Light purred, and the fact that he knew L's real name was the thing that gave the whole scenario away as a dream. "You've been working for so long…I'm lonely."_

_Another thing that gave it away—Light sounded like a character in a badly scripted porno. And still, L responded, "And how can I alleviate that loneliness?" just as he was supposed to._

_Light's lips curved in a devilish smile, and he nuzzled cutely into L's neck. His lips pressed lightly, tongue darting out to taste the pale flesh. "Please, Lawliet…" he whispered. "Please…"_

_Light's begging was something he couldn't resist—just like every time before, it had him leaning up and grabbing the teen by the collar, tugging him into a fierce kiss. The tiny mewls and moans that spilled from Light's lips were nothing new, and still L reveled in them. Even more so did he revel in the way Light tipped his head back, baring his neck submissively. "Lawliet…" he whimpered again. "Please…please!"_

_It wasn't healthy. L knew that it wasn't. But still, he took Light by the hand, just as he always did, and led him to the bed, which, as always, had appeared behind them. He pushed Light down, letting the teen's gasps of pleasure roll over him. He welcomed his partner's arms as they looped around his neck, gently guiding him down to the bed to crouch over him. This was the role Light always took—perfectly submissive, and willing to go along with anything L wished. Nothing like real life. They kissed, then, as they so often did, and as always L was the aggressor. Light's lips were parted for him and only him, those pretty little sounds were for no one else but the dark-eyed detective who was currently crouching over him, pinning the teen's lithe form to the bed with the length of his body. Light was helpless beneath him, unable to move, unable to do anything but moan—and that he abused that power as L's hands fisted in his hair, yanking his head back and baring his neck even further for the detective's tongue and teeth to explore. This was the beautiful part about the dream—he couldn't leave a mark. And so when he snapped his teeth into his partner's neck, there was no protest short of a soft groan._

_"Lawliet!" Light gasped, just as he always did. "I need—!"_

_It was the cue L always waited for. And just as always, L held out a hand, and a chain was suddenly clenched between his fingers. He stopped for a moment, considering the prone form beneath him._

_Light blinked up at him, eyes half-lidded with lust. "So?" he rasped, voice dark and heady. "How shall we do this tonight, my Lawliet?"_

_L shuddered at the sound of it, growling as he lashed out, gripping Light's neck and drawing him close. He threaded the narrow chain through the hook on the leather collar, then pushed Light back down on the bed. He reached around the teen, twisting the collar until the hook was neatly positioned at the back of his neck—then he rolled Light over so that he rested on his stomach, and so that the slightest tug on the chain would send his head reeling backwards._

_Light shot him a darkly aroused glance, as per the norm, and purred, "Ooh, feeling inventive, are we?"_

_L responded in a low snarl, yanking harshly on the chain and grinning sadistically when Light cried out in pain. L's hands shot out, gripping Light's wrists and pulling them behind his back. He easily clipped the two bracelet-like cuffs together, making sure that Light couldn't pull his hands apart. Then he reached down, sealing his hands around Light's hips and yanking them upwards so that he was forced to balance on his knees without the use of his hands, with his chest still pressed to the mattress. It couldn't have been comfortable, and L reveled in that fact. He reveled in his companion's pained gasps._

_"Lawliet…" Light whispered pleadingly, just as he always did. "Lawliet!"_

_L took it as the cue to move forward. He reached forward and unfastened the teen's pants, yanking them down to his knees. His boxers were next. L didn't bother undressing the teen full; he never did. Instead he went for convenience, stripping him just far enough to do what he wished to do. L's hands found his own pants next, and he shoved them halfway down his thighs before moving back to Light. He took the chain in one hand, wrapping it around his forearm, but he didn't pull at it just yet. Both hands clawed into Light's hips with a vengeance, and Light let out tiny whimper when the cold chain pressed against his heated flesh._

_"Do you want it?" L rasped out, just as always._

_The response was immediate and unhesitating. "Yes! Please…"_

_And without asking again, L slammed into the form beneath him. He hadn't prepared Light; he never did—he loved to hear the teen scream with pain, loved to reach down and swirl his fingers in the blood dripping down the back of his thighs. It was sadistic, L knew, but in the dream it didn't matter. The dream Light couldn't really feel the pain, no matter how convincing he made it. And he made it_ very _convincing._

_"Ah!" Light screeched, drawing away from L's grasp. "That…hurts…!"_

_It always hurt. These were the words that always fell from Light's lips. And after hearing them so many times in a row, L didn't heed them any longer. Instead, he pulled out almost entirely, slamming back in a moment later, and went on to repeat the process with endless rhythm. And then, once his rhythm had been established, and he was pumping in and out of Light repeatedly, he drew his hand back and yanked on the chain as hard as he could. Light immediately let out a strangled gasp, choking as the collar pressed harshly against his jugular. He let out a garbled mess of words, but L couldn't understand them—he never could. He yanked harder, groaning at the sight of Light's tensed muscles, the way his head arched so beautifully backwards under the pressure of the chain. It felt heavenly. The way Light's body convulsed lightly beneath him, the way he choked and gasped when the collar was pulled tight, the way he shuddered around him, entire body shaking erratically as L abused him._

_L was close. It wouldn't take much to send him over the edge. And so he tightened his hold, pounding into the teen a few more times before burying himself to the hilt and releasing._

_"Ah…Lawliet!" Light moaned, muscles twitching violently as the flood of liquid filled him. "Please…"_

_L pulled out without hesitation. Light was whimpering beneath him, shivering with every brush of the older man's fingers against his overly sensitive skin. It would be all too easy for him to reach around Light and tease him to completion, but L made no move, for the dream was already fading. As always, Light would be left begging beneath him as L slipped back into the real world._

_"Lawliet, I need you!" Light wailed as the dream faded further. "Lawliet, please, please don't leave me like this…"_

_But before L could make another move, the dream was gone, and he was waking up once again._

_Just like always._

†††

L awoke, as always, frustrated and painfully aroused. It dawned on him momentarily that the object of his desire was sleeping a few feet away, beautifully unaware, and that it would be all too easy to pin him down and take him forcibly. But he didn't wish to hurt Light in such a way (or if he did, he was denying himself the pleasure out of common decency). And so instead, as had become common suit over the past week and a half since he'd had the first dream, he carefully extricated himself from the sheets and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.


	13. The Five of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this chapter was so fun to write! Every chance I get, I just love having L and Light bicker.
> 
> Thanks for the support; you guys make me smile!

"You can't expect me to live like this, Ryuzaki!"

"I have already assured you, Light, that your protesting is not only arbitrary, but highly annoying as well. No matter how much you protest, I will not make any exceptions to my observation of you."

"You could at least turn away!"

"Not likely. How do I know that you won't continue your killings while I'm not looking?"

"I'm not Kira, you owl-eyed freak!"

"And I say that you _are,_ you prissy little princess!"

"Panda-face!"

"Control freak!"

"Sugar addict!"

"Ice queen!"

"Hothead!"

"Perfectionist!"

"That's not even an insult!"

"Just finish undressing and get in the shower!"

Light curled his lips in a vicious snarl, shooting Ryuzaki the most heated glare he could manage. But still, the detective refused to back down. They were nose-to-nose, inches away from each other, each wearing an identical expression of fury. But no matter how uncomfortable their proximity was, Light refused to back down. He was _not_ going to let Ryuzaki bully him into showering in the same room _at the same time_ as him. He had his pride, and he refused to give it up to the older man. Unfortunately, Ryuzaki didn't agree. He was just as determined as Light, and he was absolutely adamant that he get his way. He was also exceedingly grumpy, which was to be expected after the start to their morning.

It had started in a relatively normal fashion.

Light had woken up slowly, as was normal for him. Of course, the first thing to come to his attention was that he was exceedingly warm. As in, _blindingly_ warm, bordering on _hot._ He immediately wondered why he was so warm. The next thing he wondered was why he couldn't move his arms or legs. He momentarily shifted, attempting to roll onto his side to alleviate the terrible ache in his joints, but was halted by circlets of what felt like metal digging into his wrists and ankles. He let out a soft groan, feeling the pain of being immobilized intensify with the awareness that he was completely unable to move. Even his neck ached, having been held at an odd angle for most of the night. He very much wanted to stretch his muscles.

But then, as if to mock him, the knowledge of the previous night returned—and a stone of dread settled in the bottom of his stomach. He'd been mostly subdued in his conversation with Ryuzaki the previous night, the obvious result of a fading dose of a very powerful sedative. Now his head felt slightly clearer, though a slight fog still remained, and he was beginning to realize just how bad his situation was.

Ryuzaki had arrested him. He hadn't taken him to jail, no—but he'd arrested him just the same, and if what the detective had already done was anything to go off of, he wouldn't mind going to extreme lengths to extract information from him. Light didn't fear being tortured _,_ or anything as drastic, but he knew that if Ryuzaki wanted to, he could design a torment that far outdid the concept of physical torture. After all, Light had already determined that the detective was a master of the psyche—it would be far too easy for him to chip away at Light's mental walls until he was reduced to his lowest state, forced to confess to his so-called crimes. After that, it would all be over. He'd be executed, or if not that, sent to prison for the rest of his life.

Or…as Ryuzaki had suggested…he would be kept as some sort of trophy. A _pet._

A pet…funny, he already felt like one, what with the chains and his utter dependence on Ryuzaki. He was more than aware that he was at the detective's mercy. He could do with him what he pleased, and, so long as Light was kept in chains, there wasn't much he could do unless his father lost patience and demanded to see him. Then, maybe, if Soichiro saw how he was being kept, he would take him away from Ryuzaki. Still, it probably wouldn't be enough—Ryuzaki seemed the type to pursue what he wanted until he got it, and over the past twenty-four hours, Light had come to the realization that Ryuzaki wanted to know if he was Kira. He wanted to know _very_ much. And that sort of want wasn't something that could be assuaged by an overprotective father.

There were other issues with Light's situation as well. For one, Ryuk was no longer with him. The shinigami had largely kept to the shadows over the past several days, but he'd been more absent than usual the previous night. Around seven o'clock he'd flown out the window without a word. Presumably, he'd gone off to the market to start stealing apples, despite Light's insistence that he not do such a thing. Normally he'd be back in a few hours, cackling annoyingly in Light's ear. But now that the teen had been taken to some unknown location, Ryuk had no way to find him. Light wasn't exactly sure if shinigami had some kind of homing instinct when it came to their Death Notes, but seeing as the shinigami hadn't shown up just yet, he suspected the answer was no.

Again—that wasn't the only issue. There was one other large, blatant error in his plan. He'd already set it up so that criminals would continue to die no matter what Ryuzaki did to him. However, the fact remained that even though _old_ criminals would continue to die, the _new_ ones would remain alive. If this trend continued for as long as Light was in custody, then it would be just as bad as waving a flag that proclaimed _I am Kira_ over his head while Ryuzaki was in the room. Light had to find a way for recent criminals to die while he was being watched.

This was a surprisingly easy problem to fix.

In fact, Light hadn't even had to do anything.

All he'd had to do was keep a close watch on the criminals being killed by Kira. Over the past two weeks, he'd been quite thorough (which had ultimately led to him getting arrested, which he would consider at a later time) in detailing the name and date of every single criminal death via heart attack. And as he'd worked, he'd managed to divide the killings into three groups. The groups were not on the paper, no—that would have made it far too obvious that he was attempting to better the world through such violent means. Rather, they were contained within the confines of his mind, where he considered them the most safe. The three groups went as such: the first was a group of criminals that Light himself had killed, the second was a group of criminals that he had _not_ killed, but had deserved death, and the third was a group of criminals who could hardly be called criminals at all. These criminals had committed petty crimes that weren't even worthy of jail time, let alone death. They didn't deserve it. They were, in large, innocent of any crime deserving of death. This was the group that puzzled Light the most. He'd already established that he shared ideals with the other Kira, the one using the notebook Ryuk was after. They both wanted the same thing. This made his murders easy to distinguish from the others, the ones carried out in cold blood. This left Light with only one other explanation.

Ryuk, long ago, had hinted that there was a third Kira entering the human world. He hadn't been specific about it. He'd just said that there was a shinigami named Rem with a spare notebook, and that she would most likely be dropping said notebook in the human world sooner than later. And Light had been largely skeptical, for he'd seen no evidence of the third Kira's existence—but now, as these petty killings continued, so different from the others, he found himself seriously considering his—or her—existence. The premise that the third Kira was real was the basis of his entire plan.

He had a theory. It wasn't a strong theory, but still—it had the potential to work. He theorized that the third Kira was real (which was a stretch in and of itself, but Light was choosing to ignore that for now), and that they were attempting to perform executions similar to Light's, and similar to the second Kira's. However, they didn't seem to understand what true justice was. They wanted to kill all criminals, it seemed, as evidenced by the plethora of deaths among minor criminals (and Light hypothesized that the third Kira had also taken down several larger targets, the likes of which Light would have wished to execute himself, but he was unable to recognize those larger kills because they'd just been lumped in with the deserving criminals killed by the second Kira). With this in mind, Light's plan became clear. He wouldn't kill any new criminals, but he wouldn't be caught by Ryuzaki because of it—for the third Kira would be doing the killings for him, without ever having to be asked. Of course, there were flaws. There was always the possibility that he was wrong, and that the third Kira was only targeting minor criminals. If this was the case, then it would swiftly become obvious that the original Kira, the true Kira, was no longer in action. That would be it—game over. But Light was almost certain that this would not be the case.

So, then, that was his plan sorted. If it worked, then there was no way Ryuzaki would be able to tell that he was acting as Kira. Not unless he knew something Light didn't.

But he'd gotten off track.

As things stood, Light was very warm, _hot,_ even. He frowned, straining against the chains, murmuring in discomfort when his joints protested. His head became clearer as he shifted, and he realized suddenly that there was something next to him, and that that something was the source of the heat.

It took him about a second after that to figure out what had happened. It was only natural for humans to gravitate towards sources of heat in their sleep, especially when it was so cold inside Ryuzaki's hotel room—which explained why there was a lump of detective sprawled across his chest. Of course, that shouldn't have even been an _issue,_ considering that there were multiple bedrooms inside the hotel room and it was absolutely unnecessary that Ryuzaki share a bed with him, but still the detective had _apparently_ managed to weasel his way into bed with him after he fell asleep. Pervy bastard. It was hardly the most awkward thing he'd ever experienced (there had been this class field trip to the adjacent region when he was in grade school during which he'd been forced to share a bed with a boy who was quite obviously infatuated with him that had been _far_ worse, but he'd refrain from getting into that particular disaster) but it was hardly comfortable. He was ready to admit that he found Ryuzaki more pleasing than he should have (even if that particular sentiment had faded slightly with recent events), but he was _not_ ready to wake up with the detective invading his personal space in such a way.

"Ryuzaki," he murmured sleepily, hoping to wake the detective. Embarrassment be damned, he needed to use the restroom, and Ryuzaki needed to unlock him first. "Ryuzaki, wake up." He twisted and squirmed the best he could, but the detective wasn't moving. He simply laid there, eyes closed lightly, mouth slightly upturned. "Ryuzaki!" Light hissed again, slightly louder this time. And in response, to his immediate surprise, the detective released a contented murmur, nuzzling his face into Light's chest and curling his arms tighter around his chest. He looked almost cute like that, Light realized—but now was not the time to dwell upon such things. He needed to wake Ryuzaki at once. "Hey…wake up!"

"Mph…" the detective groaned, gripping tighter.

"Come on, you lug, wake up…"

Ryuzaki groaned again. He let out a nondescript murmur, as if responding to Light's plea, but did nothing more. Light opened his mouth, fully willing to begin yelling, when something locked his muscles entirely.

Ryuzaki had shifted. He'd shifted, and Light suddenly realized that the detective had one leg thrown over his hips, nearly straddling him. But that wasn't what made Light freeze. Rather, it was the fact that when Ryuzaki let out that low murmur, he'd pressed himself tighter against him, and Light could now feel… _something_ pressing against him.

Ryuzaki groaned again, whispering softly, and Light tensed even further. He would have loved to say that he had no clue just what was pressing into his thigh courtesy of the detective, but he was not so innocent that he did not know the obvious signs of male arousal.

_Oh god,_ he thought, wincing as Ryuzaki shifted _again,_ pressing himself even harder against him. _This isn't happening…this isn't happening…_

Another murmur. This time, though, Light understood every word. "Beautiful…please…"

Beautiful? As in, a _person_ that was beautiful? So that was it, was it? Ryuzaki had been put in this state by something so simple as a wet dream? It was almost hard to believe, seeing as Ryuzaki seemed so emotionless and untouchable.

Ryuzaki gasped suddenly, arching his back, pressing into Light. "Mph!" he gasped, mouth hanging open momentarily. "More…please…"

Light felt flickers of horror and fascination simultaneously as his eyes found the expression that graced Ryuzaki's features. He was quite a sight to behold, with his lips parted, forehead crinkled, eyebrows drawn up, eyes squinting behind their lids. Light reached out to touch that face, to sooth away that twisted grimace—but the chain stopped him, and a moment later he was cursing himself for even considering it, feeling an intense surge of confusion at the prospect that he'd wanted to touch Ryuzaki. It was only natural, he told himself—who wouldn't wish to touch when such an intimate thing was occurring before their very eyes? Well, maybe _intimate_ was pushing it. But still, it was deeply personal, and that was enough to send the blood flowing faster through Light's veins.

Ryuzaki gasped again, groaning lowly (although now that Light listened closely, he supposed that it was more of a _moan_ than anything else) as he thrust his hips forward. And Light, against his every desire, found himself beginning to be affected by the other man's explicit movements.

_Come on,_ he thought, _just wake up. God, I don't want to be the one to wake you up—it will be_ painfully _awkward if I do—but I'll be forced subject myself to that awkwardness if you refuse to wake up before you…you know…_

Ryuzaki surprised him with a loud and unrestrained moan, followed by a series of light pants that left beads of moisture on Light's nightshirt. "More!" he gasped again. "Oh god, more…" His hips gave a startling jolt—and this time, they didn't stop those jolts, mimicking the movement that he was no doubt performing in whatever dream he was having, bucking forward into what was no doubt a beautiful girl in Ryuzaki's mind, but what was in reality a place just to the right of Light's growing excitement. It could hardly be denied that being pressed into like this was highly arousing, and even though Light very much wanted to deny that the whole mess was happening and go back to sleep, an ache was beginning between his legs that he couldn't leave unattended for long (or maybe he _could_ just leave it unattended if Ryuzaki would just stop moving his hips like that).

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Ryuzaki gave a few more of those shallow thrusts, his hardness pressing maddeningly into Light's thigh. He gasped out a garble of unintelligible noises, entire body tensing. Then his movements slowly halted, though Light was close enough to realize that Ryuzaki had not found the satisfaction in real life that he had in the dream. But still, the movements slowed, then stopped entirely. Ryuzaki's arms closed around Light's immobile form like a vice, and the teen was momentarily worried that the detective was going to fall into a cuddly, post-dream stupor—but the next moment Ryuzaki's breathing was becoming even but swift, and his muscles were beginning to tense, rippling beneath his skin. Was he waking up? Light immediately slammed his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to remain slow and even despite his desire to begin panting terribly in response to the pressure he was feeling below the belt (not at all helped by Ryuzaki's knee being so close to it, he noted). If Ryuzaki was going to wake up, then he was not going to know that Light had been awake through the whole thing. He wouldn't endure such an embarrassing situation. Ryuzaki could figure out how to handle the situation by himself, and that was that.

Ryuzaki groaned—a _real_ groan this time, not a moan—and pushed himself up slightly. He paused for a moment, and though Light couldn't see him, he thought that perhaps he was taking in their current situation and trying to decide what to do.

"Hmph…" he muttered finally. "Great." He shifted slightly, and the next moment Light felt a heavy weight leave the bed. There was the sound of footsteps, and Light dared to crack his eyes open just enough to see Ryuzaki disappear into the bathroom. He tried not to hear or comprehend the moans and gasps that followed.

What couldn't have been more than thirty minutes later, Ryuzaki returned to the bed. By that time, Light's excitement had died down enough to be manageable, and he was certain that Ryuzaki would be unable to see it. The detective flopped onto the bed—and to Light's surprise, the next moment a warm body was pressing into his side. Ryuzaki had pressed himself against him once again. How strange. Why would he do such a thing? Was it because he assumed Light was asleep? Why…?

As was obvious, Light found himself unable to fall back asleep until much later. And when Ryuzaki finally woke him up, the detective was sitting at the edge of the bed with no sign of their earlier physical involvement.

After being awakened, Light had finally been released from the chains. This in and of itself had been an ordeal, since Light's muscles had long since stiffened into their outstretched positions. There had been a lot of pained gasping and quiet hissing before he'd managed to sit up in bed. Everything hurt, and every bone popped as he attempted to rise. Ryuzaki was even forced to catch him as he tried to stand for the first time in a day. The detective's arms were surprisingly warm, and even more surprisingly, quite strong. Light realized with a spike of horror that Ryuzaki might even be stronger than _him_. It shouldn't have been a surprise, what with his relative lack of extreme physical prowess, but it was still disconcerting.

After that, Ryuzaki had insisted that they take a shower, most likely to wash away all evidence of his earlier activities. Light had been more than willing to remain chained to the bed and allow the detective to do what he may—but the brazen detective had stated that Light had to remain in his sights at all time (Light was unable to bring up the fact that Ryuzaki had left him alone for a good thirty minutes earlier that night for fear of giving away that he'd been awake the whole time) and therefore, Light would just have to shower with him.

…Which had led to the argument they were currently engaged in.

"Light, please…" Ryuzaki whined. "I just want a shower."

_I bet you do after what you did just a few hours ago, you pervert._ "Then take a shower and allow me to remain in bed. Or you could just chain me up in the bathroom so you can watch me the whole time."

"I am unable to do that. Besides, it is easier if you just shower with me. It'll save water, you know!"

"That's no excuse! Come on, Ryuzaki…please don't make me do this."

The detective huffed irritably. "You're being ridiculous, Light. As is commonly stated between two people of the same gender, you have nothing that I don't. Unless, of course, you're hiding something from me? Something Kira related?"

He glared. "If you're expecting some sort of deformity that suggests that I'm Kira, you're going to be horribly disappointed."

"How can I know if you refuse to disrobe to take a shower? You'll have to do it eventually, Light. You can't go for the foreseeable future without bathing. I won't allow it; you'll smell terrible."

"Don't be rude!" Light snapped, sounding quite upset.

"I am not being rude, I am being truthful." Ryuzaki stared at the teen with dead eyes, speaking in that horrible monotone of his. "If you do not cooperate, then I will have to use force."

Light stared, slack-jawed, before biting out, "That's absurd!"

Those dead eyes were horrifyingly blank. "You will cooperate."

He really wasn't going to have a choice. Light winced at the thought of showering with the man, who, hours before, had been thrusting himself against him like dog in heat. "Fine, fine…" he relented, stepping back as Ryuzaki inched towards him with deadly intent. "Just…not right now, okay? Tonight."

The detective looked highly displeased. "Why must you make this so difficult?"

"Tonight!" Light snapped. "I won't resist then, if it makes you any more open to the idea."

He whined, "But I want to shower now, Light!"

"Look," the teen growled back. "If we do this now, then I can promise you that I'll make it hell for you. I'm fairly certain that you don't want to have to wrestle a teenage boy out of his clothing, right? So let's just wait and shower tonight, and I'll go along with it willingly. Do we have a deal?"

"I don't see how prolonging it is going to help you," Ryuzaki grumbled, shuffling his bare feet.

"It just will," came the snippy response. "Please, Ryuzaki."

There was a long pause. Then, "Fine. Tonight it is." He was very clearly irritated, if the shuffling feet and pointed glares had anything to say about it.

Light sighed with relief as Ryuzaki led him back into the bedroom. "So," he said, "what are we supposed to do now that you've contained me here?"

The expression of irritation on Ryuzaki's face was immediately replaced by one of mild thoughtfulness. "Hmm…I hadn't thought that far, admittedly. I was quite focused on getting you here in the first place, in one piece, without your father losing it and attacking me."

Light hummed in agreement, allowing himself a small smile. "That _will_ be rather difficult, you know. I don't think he likes you much."

"And just how did you deduce that?" Ryuzaki asked.

"Easy. He's a prideful man, though he doesn't like to admit it, and he dislikes being ordered around by others. That's one of the reasons he worked to hard to achieve his position as chief, where he's one of the ones giving the orders. And now he's been put under the control of someone about thirty years his younger who doesn't even bother to wear a suit to work. He must think he's being ordered around by a picky, petulant child."

Ryuzaki frowned deeply, one thumb immediately rising to press against his lips. "That's hurtful, you know."

Light ignored him. "And then, on top of all of that, you're _not_ just a petulant child. Don't get me wrong, you're definitely childish—but you're also a genius. And the fact that such a careless-looking child could be more intelligent than him is something that Soichiro doesn't wish to accept. And this isn't even mentioning the fact that you randomly showed up and searched his home, ending in you _drugging_ his only son and hauling him off to a hotel, where he was bound and gagged for an extended length of time."

"You make me sound so cruel."

"Hmm…not cruel, no. I suppose you're more cold and calculating."

His frown deepened. "Cold? Calculating?"

Light stared in disbelief. Was he expected to comfort Ryuzaki? Tell him that no, he _wasn't_ a cold, calculative, _manipulative_ person? "Yes, that's what I said. Don't tell me you're offended by the truth, Ryuzaki."

"But Light…"

By the gods, he looked like a kicked puppy! _No, no, I can't let him trick me into feeling sorry for him! Come on, Light, toughen up!_ But despite his determination, he still found himself wincing as he stuttered, "Come on, Ryuzaki, don't get all offended on me…" He shifted awkwardly.

Ryuzaki held his gaze a moment longer before looking away. "You should change your clothing," he said, and Light was grateful for the change of subject. "There are several outfits in the closet for you to choose from. I know how much you care about how you look."

Light stared suspiciously. "You mean you're not going to chain me back to the bed?"

"In time. As much as I'd love to tie you back down and watch you to make sure you don't start killing people, it's not possible at moment. Can you guess why? Go on, Light, put that genius brain of yours to the test."

As _if_ something so simple was a test. "My father," he said in explanation. "He's not going to be content until he sees me and hears me say that I'm okay and that you haven't done anything too inhumane to me."

"Very good, Light. That is correct."

Light, having walked to the wardrobe while Ryuzaki spoke, opened the doors and reached for the first thing he saw. When he glanced down at it, he noted with satisfaction that it was his favorite outfit—his slacks, dress shoes, and tie, all colored a deep black, and his collared long-sleeved shirt, dyed a beautiful blood red. Acutely aware of Ryuzaki's prying eyes, Light threw off his nightshirt and pulled the red dress shirt on, buttoning it up before looping his tie around his neck and tying it so that it was completely flawless, lying flat and seamless against his chest. Next he reached for his pants, painfully aware of the fact that Ryuzaki was still staring. He yanked them off and replaced them with his slacks, thankful for the fact that he wouldn't have to undress completely. The next moment he seated himself upon the bed, tugging on a pair of black socks, followed by his polished dress shoes. He ducked into the bathroom next, shrugging off Ryuzaki's gaze, and noted with satisfaction that all of his toiletries were already there. He brushed his teeth (ignoring Ryuzaki's stare), splashed water across his face (ignoring Ryuzaki's stare), and finally moved on to fix his hair, forming it into the windswept style that he so adored (all while ignoring Ryuzaki's stare).

"Are you finally done?" the detective asked when Light stepped out of the bathroom.

"Finally?" Light echoed indignantly. "I took fifteen minutes, not fifteen hours!"

"I am aware of that. Still, it comes to my attention that you're much slower than I am. I can be ready in three minutes. Perhaps this is a sign that your mental ability is below my own?"

He was trying to provoke him, of course. It wouldn't work—at least, not on the outside. "I hardly see how you've come to that conclusion, Ryuzaki. I simply like to be neat and tidy before I face other humans. Especially my father, who will no doubt be assessing my physical and mental state the instant I am set before him. Really, it is in your best interests for me to take longer to make sure I look presentable. What would he think if his recently abducted son appeared before him looking as if he'd been neglected? It's bad enough that I have _these."_ Light motioned to his face, where his split lip and swollen eye still persisted in aching. He could no longer see the injuries, seeing as he'd moved away from the mirror, but he knew that his lip was swollen and discolored, and that the flesh around his eye was blotched with splashes of red and purple. He would have stopped to apply foundation to cover the hideous marks, but seeing as L was breathing down his neck, he'd resisted. No doubt it would have given the detective even more ammo with which to tease him.

"Of course," Ryuzaki murmured belatedly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

Light made for the door. "Let's go. I'm tired of being in this tiny room."

The detective's head immediately shot up. "Not so fast, Light." There was a sudden flash of movement, and the next moment Light let out an indignant screech as he was pressed against the wall.

"Ryuzaki!" he spat, struggling to free himself. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Apologies." There was no further explanation as Ryuzaki's hands closed on his shoulders, flipping him and pressing his chest to the off-white plaster. There was the sound of shifting cloth, then the all too familiar clink of metal on metal.

"Hey!" Light protested, suspecting what Ryuzaki was planning a moment before he did it. Two circlets of steel closed around both wrists, and when Light moved to draw them apart, he found that he couldn't. He'd been handcuffed. "Damn it, Ryuzaki! Again?"

"All in the name of caution," was the airy response. The detective's hands disappeared from Light's shoulders and closed over the chain holding his hands together. The teen found himself being pulled back, then lightly pushed forward. "You will walk in front of me, and you will not attempt to attack me."

"Of course I won't attack you!" Light snapped viciously.

"Your tone says otherwise." Ryuzaki nudged him forward, still grasping the chain. "Move, Light. I don't want to push you."

Light seriously doubted that. The detective seemed to have something of a sadistic streak, and he wasn't at all eager to explore it. And so he moved, however reluctantly, out of the bedroom and into the main room. No one was there yet, he found. "When will the task force be here?" he asked curiously.

"I've asked them to come in at noon today, which means that they will be here in approximately sixty minutes. In that time, I intend to work on the Kira Case."

"What are you doing to catch him?"

"That is classified information, as you well known. And even if it wasn't, I certainly wouldn't tell such things to my prime suspect."

Light huffed, feeling his bangs ruffle briefly under the force of his breath. "Fine, I suppose you have a point. But surely you realize that if I'm in the room while you're working, I'll most likely pick up on your plan."

"No, you won't."

"How do you figure? I'm not your typical college student, Ryuzaki. I'm smart enough to figure out what's going on."

Ryuzaki ignored him completely, saying instead, "Light, if you would be so kind as to seat yourself in that computer chair…?"

Light glanced over, locating the chair in question. There were two of them in the room, having obviously been brought in by Ryuzaki for his own comfort. The detective was currently gesturing to the one on the left, the one pushed slightly to the side of the large desk with the computer monitors. "Why?" he asked, even as he sank into the chair.

He was answered by Ryuzaki's hands, reaching around him momentarily and unlocking the cuffs, bringing them away. Light opened his mouth to thank the detective, but he was immediately cut off by the clicking of metal closing around first his right wrist, then the arm of the chair. The process was repeated with his left wrist before Light even had a chance to protest, and Ryuzaki was suddenly standing back with a rather satisfied expression on his face.

"Sorry," Ryuzaki said, though Light suspected that the detective wasn't sorry in the least.

"I don't see how this is going to stop me from figuring out what you're up to," Light grumbled.

"No? Well perhaps this will answer all your lingering questions."

Light took one look at what Ryuzaki had just withdrawn from his pocket, and he immediately hissed, "No, Ryuzaki! Get that thing away from me at once!"

"You have my apologies." Again, Light was sure that he didn't mean it. But he didn't have much time to think about it before a thick strip of cloth was being tied around his eyes, shielding everything from sight.

"Ryuzaki!"

Light could practically hear the smirk in the detective's voice as he said, "See? Isn't that better? Now there's no way you can tell what I'm doing."

Light was almost tempted to make a sarcastic comment about the possibility of him hearing what the detective was up to, but he thought better of it. He wanted to retain at least _one_ of his senses. "Damn you, Ryuzaki!"

"Manners, Light. I wouldn't want to gag you again as well."

Light hated the fact that he fully believed that he would do it. "What about when my father gets here?"

"I'll remove the blindfold, but you will remain cuffed to the chair. And I should warn you that after this brief meeting you will be bound to the bed, and I do not plan on letting you go."

"You won't let me go?" Light echoed indignantly. Then he groaned, realizing, "You expect me to live chained to a bed."

"Only for a few days, Light. After that, we will be relocating to the task force headquarters, where I will place you in a specialized cell and leave you bound hand and foot."

The teen shuffled, wincing as the cuffs bit into his wrists. "Real reassuring, you bastard…"

Ryuzaki smiled, though it was small and fleeting. "Don't worry, Light. All will be well soon."

Ryuzaki sounded so certain…so why couldn't he believe that it was the truth?

†††

"Light, thank goodness you're okay!"

The teen forced a smile, staring up at his father, who was standing just in front of the chair to which Light was bound. L had removed the blindfold a few minutes before, just in time for Soichiro to come barging into the room, flanked by the other members of the task force.

"I'm fine, father," Light assured him, smiling as Soichiro leaned down for an awkward hug.

"Are you sure? You haven't been mistreated, have you?"

"No, no, Ryuzaki has been perfectly hospitable." _Well, you know—other than the forced undressing, gag, blindfold, and that_ dream _he was having…_

His white lie must have been believable, because Soichiro's expression immediately softened. He raised a hand and ruffled Light's hair, just as he'd done since he was a child. But a moment later his glare had returned, and he was whirling around to glare at Ryuzaki. "Ryuzaki!" he snapped. "Release my son from this chair at once! It's inhumane!"

Oh, he had _no_ idea…

"I'm afraid that I cannot do that, Mr. Yagami," the detective deadpanned. "I suspect that he is Kira, and therefore to release him to do as he will is quite dangerous. He could attempt to kill me, after all."

"Ryuzaki, I refuse to allow you—!"

"It's okay," Light broke in smoothly, catching the relieved glance Ryuzaki shot his way, as subtle as it was. "Please, father, don't worry about me. If I am mistreated in any way, or overly uncomfortable, I will be sure to let you know at once."

Soichiro turned back to his son, eyes wide. "And how am I to know that he hasn't threatened you in some way to keep you quiet? How do I know that he isn't performing some kind of sick blackmail to keep you under his thumb?"

"You'll have to trust me," Light said, while at the same time, L spoke up in an indignant tone.

"Mr. Yagami, despite the fact that you do not enjoy my company, I still a highly respected and skilled detective. I would not stoop so low as to threaten one of my suspects in order to keep him quiet about his physical and mental condition."

There was a rather interesting gleam in the detective's eyes as he spoke, Light noticed. He couldn't read it; it was so much like those other mysterious flashes of emotion that he'd noticed in the few short hours he'd been in his care. Oh, if only he could figure out what the detective was feeling, what he was thinking…

Soichiro glared openly. "Your status isn't comforting in the least; if anything it makes me even more suspicious! You have the power to do anything you want, and we would never find out about it!"

It was true, of course. Ryuzaki was highly skilled, just as someone who was presumably working under L would have to be. _Presumably_ being the operative word there, of course—Light wasn't certain if the detective was really working for L, but there was a good chance.

"That is true," Ryuzaki consented. "However, I have never abused my power in such a way, and I do not intend to change that now. If you don't trust Light to inform you of his true condition, then perhaps an agreement is in order. You know my private phone number, do you not?"

"I do…" Soichiro said hesitantly.

"Good. Whenever you are concerned that I have been mistreating your son, or that I've been threatening him to keep him quiet, you may call that number and I will immediately allow you to speak with Light."

"And what is that supposed to accomplish? It would be even easier for you to threaten him if I decided to accept such a proposition. I wouldn't be able to see him, so there's no telling what you might be doing to him!"

"You act like I'm an executioner, Mr. Yagami," Ryuzaki muttered, pouting like a kicked puppy. "And in any case, communication via telephone _is_ a good way to make sure that I'm not mistreating your son. After all, if you call and I'm in the middle of torturing him or doing something similarly horrific, then I will have no choice but to allow you to speak to Light—for if I do not, then you can be reasonably sure that I am harming him in some way, shape, or form. And when I do allow you to speak with him, judging by the tone of his voice and the way he speaks, you will be able to accurately determine whether or not he is in distress."

Soichiro was unable to deny such obvious logic. And how could he? Ryuzaki was a genius; his reasoning was flawless. "If I accept this, then you have to promise me to answer at any time, no matter what you're doing. After all, your mistreatment of my son could be explained away as you forgetting to keep your phone on you. I won't allow that to happen."

Ryuzaki waved a hand carelessly. "Yes, yes, of course. I promise that I will answer at any time, no matter what. And if I do not, then you have my full permission to check the security cameras, which are installed everywhere within this hotel room and will have picked up anything that I might have been doing."

Light raised a brow, subtly glancing around him. The security cameras were obvious and completely visible in the main room, but he hadn't seen any in Ryuzaki's bedroom. Were they hidden, perhaps? Even if they were, how had he not noticed at least one of them? And that flicker of emotion was back in Ryuzaki's eyes, that flicker that he couldn't define.

"Fine, then…" Soichiro grumbled. "Light, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Of course, father," Light responded swiftly. "I assure you, I haven't been mistreated. You have nothing to worry about."

"Indeed," Ryuzaki added before Soichiro had a chance to respond. "Now, then, does this satisfy all your demands, Mr. Yagami? Is Light's presence here no longer needed?"

Soichiro shuffled his feet, clearly wanting Light to remain in his presence longer, but not knowing how to ask for such a thing without sounding petulant.

"Good," Ryuzaki said, not allowing him to answer. "In that case, I will take Light back to his temporary quarters. The conversation we are about to have should not be overheard."

Light's head shot up. "Hey!" he protested. "I thought you were going to let me—!"

"What? Help with the investigation?' Ryuzaki laughed humorlessly, shuffling over to him and releasing him from the chair, pulling him up and spinning him around before binding his hands behind his back for the nth time. "I may have wanted your help earlier, but now you are not just my prime suspect, but in my custody. As I told you earlier, you will not be allowed to hear our discussions." He pushed the teen lightly towards the hallway.

"Wait a minute, Ryuzaki!" Light hissed, glancing back down the hall to see that Soichiro was staring after them with sharp eyes (though he most likely couldn't hear what they were saying due to Light's low whisper). "Even if you're not going to let me stay, do you have to tie me back to the bed? My joints hurt, dammit!"

"I am deeply sorry that you are in pain." It was flat, heartless—and that unreadable emotion was back.

And that was when Light put two and two together, and he realized just what that emotion meant. "You're lying!" he whispered, breath whooshing out of him sharply. He was _lying!_ Every time Light had noticed that flicker, Ryuzaki had been lying to Soichiro! The implications of such a thing immediately flooded Light's mind.

"Indeed, it seems that I am. Apologies."

Yet again, he wasn't sorry in the least. Light could tell.

"Now," Ryuzaki said, pushing him through the door leading to the bedroom. "I'm going to tie you down again, and you're going to behave yourself. Understand?"

†††

L let out a short breath as he finally left Light's presence, closing the door to the bedroom firmly behind him and making his way back down the hall. The teen was testing his patience in ways he'd never experienced—not that he'd ever admit it out loud. The constant questioning, that snarky tone, the arrogant sway to his walk…and those _eyes._ Wide and innocent at first glance, but with that darker, striking persona held within. He'd thought that the teen looked good tied down and unable to move, but it was so much more exciting when those eyes were fixed on him, full of confusion and shimmering painfully. His swollen eye and split lip only completed his look. It had almost been hardto lie to him about framing him, what with those utterly _abused_ eyes looking up at him. But he'd managed it, and then he'd managed it again when he was speaking to Light's father, and then again when he was apologizing to Light for forcing him to endure pain at the hands of those chains.

"Now," he said, reentering the room. "Shall we continue?" His eyes shot to Soichiro, but the man appeared far too irritated to respond.

Aizawa spoke instead. "Yes, Ryuzaki, let's get this over with. In your message you told us that this was merely an informational meeting, and that we'd resume work once the task force headquarters is complete in two days."

Ah yes, the message. L had sent the members of the task force a brief message asking them to come in for a mere informational meeting. He'd also requested that they refrain from referring to him as L during their short meeting, and to take special care in following his orders so that Light did not figure out who he was. He was still known as Ryuzaki to the teen, and he wanted to keep it that way for a few days longer at the very least. "Yes," he said calmly, "that is why we have gathered today. As I said, the official headquarters will be completed in two days, and then we will move the investigation there. I will send a message with the exact time and location when I am completely certain that there will be no further delays. Until then, I wish to remain here in solitude to keep an eye on Light. If I am able to watch him at all times, then I can be relatively certain of his respective innocence or guilt."

"And you couldn't have just said all that over an email?" Aizawa asked shortly.

"I believed that Mr. Yagami would want to see Light in person to assure that I hadn't done anything cruel to him." Ah, yes—nothing cruel, like blindfolding him, gagging him, and chaining him to a bed for hours. "And besides that, it is dangerous for me to relay sensitive information via email. Seeing as I wish to discuss our plans for the future, it was best if we met in person."

"Do you have a plan?" Matsuda asked, stars in his eyes. "Are we taking on Kira directly? Do we get to challenge him?"

"No, Matsuda," L growled lowly. "We are not taking him on directly, because that would be suicide. He'd seek out the two things we've determined that he needs to kill—one's face and name—and he'd do away with us all. Or more accurately, he'd do away with _you._ After all, my name is a thing that exists only within my head and Watari's, and neither of us are likely to give it up any time soon."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed, though he lacked the concentrated fury that Soichiro was so openly displaying. "Hang on, Ryuzaki. You've said countless times that you're convinced Light is Kira. If that's the case, then why are we making a plan to deal with Kira as if you haven't already captured him? You think you've already got him in custody, correct? In that regard, you've already _dealt with him,_ so to speak."

"That's true. However, there's something I think you should know before you say such a thing." L whirred his chair around, reaching for his computer. He'd done a bit of research in the middle of the night, having briefly awakened and become unable to sleep without doing a bit of work first. What he'd found had been both completely expected and unexpected. Obviously, criminals were still being killed. This was due to L's persistence in murdering them, and the fact that he absolutely did not intend to stop in order to incarcerate Light. And so he'd separated the victims into two groups—the criminals he killed, and the criminals he did not. He'd somewhat expected the group of criminals he did not kill to decrease, or even disappear entirely, the moment he took Light into custody. However, there were ways around this. Namely, Light could have set it up so that criminals continued to die. However, if no new criminals were killed, then it would be rather obvious (to L, at least) what had happened. And so he'd also been keeping track of whether or not the people being killed were recent criminals.

His results…had been disturbing.

"I've been keeping track of Kira's victims," L said. "I wanted to see if the killings would stop if I took Light into custody, and they didn't."

"So he's innocent!" Soichiro exclaimed, head snapping in L's direction. "You can't hold him any longer if he's already been proven as such!"

"Not so, Mr. Yagami. We have already seen that Kira can control the times of death of his victims. Who is to say that Light hasn't made it so that criminals will continue to die throughout his incarceration?"

"Then look at when they were convicted!" the man burst out. "If new criminals continue to die, then he can't possibly be Kira!"

"New criminals have continued to die." This was true, of course, for L had been killing new criminals. But what made it all the more frightening was the fact that although L had continued to kill recent criminals, the criminals he killed were not the only recent ones that continued to die. In other words, there was someone else using the Death Note.

He had not expected A to come into play quite so soon.

"Recent criminals are still dying? Then he's innocent! Release him at once!"

"Yeah," Matsuda agreed, "it seems pretty suspect that you're keeping him when there's proof that he's innocent, Ryuzaki."

"Not if there's more than one Kira, I'm afraid."

There was a collective gasp, and the next moment Mogi was speaking, as he so rarely did. "What makes you say something so outlandish? What proof do you have?"

"Well," Ryuzaki began, "look at the data. Until recently, Kira was only killing criminals who had already been convicted. The only ones that were dying were the ones that, according to the law, deserved death. But then other criminals began dying. Ones that didn't deserve death. Ones that had committed nothing more than petty crimes. They were very unlike Kira's usual victims, don't you think?" He didn't wait for a response. "All evidence suggests that there is a second Kira, or even a third. For this reason, I can feel quite comfortable in holding Light captive for a while longer."

"But then there would be no reason to hold him!" Aizawa protested. "If you can't tell which Kira's which, then there's no point in holding Light. It will not tell you if he is Kira, for you will not be able to discern which victims were his and which were the other Kira's."

"True," L murmured, "which is why I am going to watch him very closely in the two days that follow. To be honest, I was hoping that a certain subset of criminals would stop dying, easily allowing me to identify Light as Kira…but now…things have become slightly more complicated."

"How will watching him achieve anything?" Matsuda asked innocently.

"It most likely won't provide any sort of concrete evidence, but it may provide me with the crucial opportunity to profile the suspect. If I can get a glimpse into Light's mind, then I can either release him with no qualms as to his guilt or increase my suspicion of him. I know it's not ideal, but if it works, Light could be freed of most suspicion."

"But not all suspicion," Soichiro noted roughly. "You'll still think he's Kira, no matter what happens over the next two days. You'll want to keep him indefinitely, won't you?"

He would. L was almost certain that Light had his hand in the vat of Kira's power, one way or another. He just had to find a way to prove it. And hadn't that been his problem in the story of the Death Note? The notebook suggested that although L had been certain that K was guilty early on, he had never been able to prove it—and it had led to his death. By starting the case early, collecting the task force ahead of schedule, installing cameras in Light's house without his knowledge, and being overly aggressive in his interrogation tactics, L intended to reroute the course of fate. He would save himself—so long as Soichiro Yagami didn't make his attempt a living hell. "I will not want to keep him indefinitely," L said, lying smoothly. "I will only wish to observe him for as long as it takes to prove him innocent." _Or guilty._

"And how long will that take?" the man went on. "Months? Years? What will it take to satisfy you, Ryuzaki?"

If L was looking for satisfaction, he had a feeling that keeping Light beside him forever would serve his purposes—but he was not looking for satisfaction, he was looking to catch Kira. And so he said, "It will take however long it takes, Mr. Yagami. However, if it makes you feel any better, I am completely certain that it will be less than two years." Two years indeed—for after two years, if he hadn't caught Kira, he would be dead.

Soichiro, of course, heard only the worst-case scenario. " _Two years?"_ he spluttered. You intend to bind my son to you for _two years?"_

"He will not be bound to me," L corrected, for he'd seen how that went in the story and he was completely convinced that it would be ineffective if he tried it now. "He will simply be bound."

"That's no way for a teenager to live! And Light wants to go to college, Ryuzaki—he's about to be accepted into To-Oh! You can't take that away from him!"

"It won't be taken away," L assured him. "Once To-Oh allows Light to enroll, I will personally contact them and assure that they allow him to attend belatedly once this case has run its course."

"But his career—"

"If he is proven innocent, then Light will have no issues in obtaining a job anywhere he wants. I myself will advocate his skills, if necessary. I promise you that in return for enduring this, he will face no problems in the work force."

"Still, Ryuzaki…I can't agree to this."

"I'm afraid you have no choice."

The man's furious expression crumpled into one of despair, for he knew that L was right. "So that's it, then? Two years, and then he'll either be free or executed?"

_Or I'll take him with me,_ L thought, though he didn't voice the thought for obvious reasons. "It will most likely be less than two years, Mr. Yagami. That was a vague estimate; I don't want you to take it to heart. After all, if the twenty-four criminals we discussed earlier fail to die within the next two days, Light will be free of suspicion."

Soichiro didn't lift his eyes from the ground. "What am I supposed to tell my family?" he rasped, the fire draining from his tone. "When Sachiko's son disappears without a word, when he won't answer Sayu's calls for that many days…"

"Your wife and daughter will be able to call Light using the number you've memorized," L deadpanned. "Dial for them so they do not see the number, and I will allow them to speak to him openly—although he will obviously never be able to tell them just what he is doing. And Mr. Yagami, your family does not need to know that Light is a main suspect. Please keep this a secret from them. As for what you can tell them, I would advise making up a story about a transfer overseas to a prestigious college, or perhaps an internship at an American police agency."

"Fine…" the man responded wearily. "I'll lie to them, then…for as long as it takes." His tone was questioning, as if he was still unsure that he was doing what he was supposed to.

"Yes," L confirmed. "You will lie, for it is the only thing that will allow us to catch Kira. If it helps, you may ask yourself this, Mr. Yagami: is your son's comfort worth the lives of the thousands that Kira will kill if it turns out that he is Kira, and we release him without questioning his true identity?"

The man didn't answer. The slight dip of his head was enough.

"Good," L murmured soothingly. "Mr. Yagami, I thank you for your cooperation. I understand how hard this is, having your son under suspicion, but it won't be forever." _Unless he's Kira, in which it will be a lot longer than that._ "Now please, all of you—you should leave this place and rest while you have the chance. When I summon you to the new headquarters you'll be working long hours, and I want you to be ready."

There was a murmur of consent, and the members of the task force began to file out one by one, shooting murmurs of apology to Soichiro and murmurs of farewell to L. Soichiro, of course, remained behind a moment longer than the others, no doubt hoping that L would proclaim that the whole mess was a joke. "I can call?" he asked again, sounding every bit like a hesitant child. "Any time I want?"

"Any time," L confirmed. "I will answer without fault."

"I'll be testing that promise," Soichiro said in warning.

"I would expect no less, Mr. Yagami."

The next moment he was gone, though L suspected that he would remain outside the building for a while longer, delaying the immanent conversation he would soon be having with his family.

L was suddenly at the window without having consciously moved. His mind still rested with the amber-haired teen, who was no doubt beginning to feel the beginnings of an ache spreading through his limbs. Light Yagami. Even as he thought the name, there were stirrings in the pit of his stomach that he didn't want to admit existed. He wasn't an idiot—he knew that what he was experiencing was some form of attraction. What he was afraid of was what and who the attraction was _to._ Was it to Light, or was it to the notion that Light was Kira? Did he derive some sort of power trip from seeing the person who was possibly the world's most notorious villain sprawled out before him, helpless to stop him from doing whatever he pleased? He didn't like the answer to that question, mostly because he suspected that the answer was _yes._ He did enjoy seeing Light in that position, and that in and of itself terrified him. It only fed his sadistic streak, which had been steadily growing over the past few weeks. That, too, was terrifying. But still, L took solace in the fact that no matter what he felt, no matter what he did, he was not as bad as Kira. He was not so evil that he would kill everyone that did anything that could be considered wrong. It was true that he had murdered some who had not deserved it, but those had all been sacrifices, slaughtered for the greater good. If L hadn't killed them, then Kira would have. He would have killed them, and then he would have killed everyone else.

"L?" Watari's voice echoed from the doorway of his bedroom. "Will you be requiring sustenance? It is around lunchtime, after all."

L was silent for a moment before responding, his thoughts still resting with Light. "Yes," he murmured at last. "Please bring me a chocolate cake and two plates. Also, two vanilla milkshakes with cherries and whipped cream."

There was a soft, almost inaudible sound, and L knew that his former mentor was suppressing a chuckle. "I believe that Light will want to eat something with nutritional value, not chocolate cake. Shall I prepare something more, ah… _savory_ for him?"

L grumbled, "If you think he'll eat it."

Watari bowed, though L only knew because of the reflection off the dark window. "I will bring you your meals in approximately ten minutes."

"Yes, yes, you do that…" The detective trailed off, listening to Watari's steps as he plodded towards the kitchenette. A moment later L was pushing away from the window and heading down the hall, turning at the first door and entering the room where Light was being held. The teen had been left in the same position as the day before—bound to the bed, gagged, blindfolded, and sporting a rather clunky set of headphones meant to prevent any sound from reaching his ears. He was deathly still, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Was he asleep, perhaps?

"Light," L drawled, though he knew the teen couldn't hear him. "Are you awake?"

The teen responded to his voice. He most likely heard the vibrations, relying on the low rumble produced by L's voice to locate him. His head rose slightly from the pillows, and the next moment he was staring with blind eyes in the detective's direction. He made a tiny sound that could only be interpreted as a plea to be allowed to speak.

L hesitated for just a moment too long before walking forward, reaching out and brushing his fingertips across his suspect's chest on his way to remove the gag. The hearing protection went next, and the next moment Light's teeth were bared in a savage snarl.

"Take the blindfold off!" he snapped.

L chuckled, his tone low, and it wasn't hard to miss the shiver that coursed through Light's form. Whether it was from fear or something else, L didn't know—but still, he enjoyed it immensely. "Do you promise to behave?" he questioned, his fingertips scoring Light's cheek as he reached around to grasp the tied end of the blindfold.

"Dammit, Ryuzaki!" Light snapped.

"Fine, fine," he said, voice tinged with amusement. He tugged the blindfold off, and was immediately greeted with fierce pools of amber fire. "Is there anything else her majesty requires?"

Light ignored him. "So?" he demanded. "Did my father agree that I had to stay here?"

"Even if he hadn't, you know that I would have kept you anyways," the detective remarked carelessly. He seated himself on the bed beside the bound form of his suspect.

"True. You know, Ryuzaki, you're a very excellent liar, making my father believe that he had even the shadow of a choice."

"It is a skill that I do not utilize often, but still, I am glad that you find it effective."

"You don't use it often?" Light mocked. "That's a lie, Ryuzaki—I can tell when you're lying. I've figured out your tell."

"Oh?" L hadn't been aware that he had such a thing. What could it possibly be? "Would you mind telling me what it is?"

The teen laughed, and it was a beautiful, broken sound. His throat must be quite sore, to make his voice catch like that. When was the last time L had given him water? Had he allowed him to eat breakfast, or lunch? Was Light hungry? It occurred to L that he might have already mistreated Soichiro's son in quite a severe way.

"No," Light rasped. "If I tell you, you'll correct it at once, and I won't be able to tell anymore. You'll just have to try to figure it out yourself." He laughed again.

"Watari is bringing lunch," L said, diverting the subject from his tell. "Are you hungry? You didn't have breakfast this morning."

"I haven't even had a drink since last night," Light sneered in response. "Hunger is the least of my troubles."

L felt a pang of guilt as he immediately reached for the water bottle resting beside the bed. "I apologize. I am not used to taking care of others. In fact, normally I am the one being taken care of."

Light barked out another laugh, though it was entirely humorless. He broke of, though, as L offered him the water, tilting it so that Light was unable to ingest the quantity necessary to make him throw up. When he drew the bottle back, Light's gaze was much clearer than before. "Well," he sighed, sounding much more complacent now that he'd been allowed water, "at least I can stretch my legs when we eat. It'll be a relief to be able to move a bit."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Light. You won't be released to eat."

The teen shot him a sharp look before snapping, "What do you mean? Of course you're going to release me, what else would you do?"

"That's quite simple, Light. I am going to feed you."

"Like hell you are!"

"If you wish to starve yourself, then I will have no choice but to hold you down and force feed you. Or, if you wish, I can have a feeding tube brought in for you."

The teen's eyes flickered with momentary disbelief, followed by a momentary lapse of fear. But it was short lived, and the next moment he was clenching his teeth over fresh words. "Just let one of my hands go and I'll do it myself! It's not like I can kill anyone with one hand, even if I'm Kira!"

Actually, Light could very well kill with one hand, provided that said hand had a pen in it—but L was choosing to ignore that little detail. "Apologies, Light, but I can't risk anything." This was a lie, of course—L knew that Light didn't have the Death Note, and would therefore be unable to kill. But still, the idea of humiliating Light further by these means was far too amusing to let lie. He supposed he should have been concerned by that sentiment.

"There's that tell of yours again! I can tell you're lying!"

"Light—"

"I don't care what you say, Ryuzaki, you are not going to—!"

"Light!" L cut him off. "You will not speak to me in such an insolent tone!"

The teen glared openly. "Listen, you insufferable little imp! You will _not—!_ "

There was more after that, but L was no longer listening. He resisted the urge to twist his fingers into his hair and pull, feeling a heavy sense of exasperation as he stared at the devastatingly beautiful teen that was currently baring his teeth in his direction in the most primal of ways.

_Oh yes,_ he thought, watching with vague fascination as the teen yanked fiercely at the chains. _You, Light Yagami, are going to be my biggest challenge yet._


	14. The Hanged Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super fun chapter in my opinion, so I really hope you like it! And as always, thanks for the support! I'm posting this story on two websites right now, and you guys have been far kinder to me than the people over on the other website :P
> 
> Oh, and on a side note, let's talk about the way Light's reacting to everything L's doing. As some of you have pointed out, he's forgiving L for everything far too easily. He's thanking him for things he absolutely should NOT be thanking him for. It may seem weird, but there's a reason behind it. Unfortunately that reason isn't going to be discussed for many, many chapters, but I just wanted to let you all know that his irrational reactions are completely intentional. I've thought through it, and it's going to play into the plot eventually.

Lunch was a terrible affair. Dinner was worse.

L held out a spoon, into which he'd scooped a large portion of chocolate pudding. "Just eat it, Light," he whined. "It's not going to hurt you! It will increase brain function by forty percent!"

"I thought that was the weird sitting that did that!" was the indignant response.

"Well, yes, that too…" L waved the spoon tantalizingly over Light's lips.

The teen turned his head away, pursing his lips momentarily. "I have already been forced to endure this indignity once today, Ryuzaki. I implore you, do not force me to do this again."

"Are you begging, Light?" L asked, thinking vaguely that he'd rather like that to be the case.

"I am not begging! I am politely requesting that you release me!"

"And _I_ am telling you that it's not going to happen. Now please, eat your diner."

" _Pudding_ is not _dinner,_ Ryuzaki."

"It is for me!"

"I would think it rather obvious that I am not you!"

"But—"

"Watari brought in chicken soup for a reason—so you wouldn't force that disgusting, sugary goop down my throat! Now get rid of that chocolate monstrosity, and if you insist upon feeding me, then at least feed me something I like!"

He had such fire, such _passion—_ it would have been beautiful, had it not been completely infuriating. L sighed in defeat, finally admitting to himself, after struggling through lunch and part of dinner, that Light was adverse to sugar. He reached for a clean spoon, resting the chocolate-covered utensil back in the bowl of pudding, and forlornly set the bowl of chicken soup on the tray that rested across Light's stomach, supported by two flimsy wooden stokes on either side of his body. He scooped a bit of soup into the spoon and offered it to Light, who accepted with a heated glare. "I think I like you better like this," L commented, just to throw him off. "You're much more quiet when you're chewing."

The flush that spread across Light's cheeks was enough to force a well-concealed smirk across the detective's features. Really, the teen was just so fun to play with like this. He was so _responsive._ Light swallowed the bit of soup and opened his mouth to snap back at his captor, but L occupied him with another bite before he had the chance. The way Light pouted, lips still locked around the spoon, was far too visually stimulating for L to bear.

"Ryu—mph!" Light was cut off yet again, and this time he stayed quiet as he chewed, glaring sharply at the detective crouching over him.

As he slowly fed Light the soup, L found himself regretting over the loss of the day. He'd wanted to spend the whole time interrogating Light, picking away at his mental walls. But instead he'd spend it trying to get Light to talk to him, and when he refused, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong and how to rectify it. The teen, after fighting L throughout all of lunch, had proceeded to punish L for feeding him by glaring silently for countless hours. Eventually L had given up, tightened all of Light's restraints, and gone to work. He'd made it about an hour before he went back to Light. Then they'd sat there and glared at each other until dinner, when Light had finally opened his mouth to complain about L feeding him again.

In other words, L had accomplished nothing.

L didn't like accomplishing nothing.

About ten minutes later, Light finally asserted that he'd had enough, and L put the soup aside. "Are you done complaining now?" he asked, well aware of the petulant tone he was putting on.

"Depends on whether or not you intend to leave me here for an indefinite amount of time." His voice was clipped, terse.

L suppressed another smirk. "Well, Light…there's something we could do, if you want to stretch your legs for a bit."

"Really?" Light snapped his head up to stare at the detective.

"Yes, really," L responded, resisting the urge to laugh at Light's hopeful tone. "If you recall, you promised that if I waited until nighttime, you'd bathe without resistance. I've waited, Light, and now I wish to take a shower—and you no doubt wish to take one as well."

Light paled. "I'm supposed to shower in front of you," he said, seemingly testing the words out on his tongue.

"You are." L left out the part where they showered at the same time. He wanted to be able to see the horrified expression on Light's face when he reminded him of that little detail.

"I…" Light trailed off, bowing his head momentarily. "I suppose I promised…"

"You did," L said, and he could tell that Light wasn't happy about it in the least. "And I expect you to keep that promise. I'd rather like a shower, and I don't want to have to deal with your resistance."

Light bit his lip. He had no choice, and he knew it. "…Fine," he whispered in a low tone. "Let me up."

L eagerly reached for the restraints, releasing Light in a matter of seconds. The detective pushed himself up off the bed eagerly. After the aftermath of the previous night's dream, he wanted more than anything to wash away the remaining traces of what had happened. He wanted to feel clean again. "Come on," he urged impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah…" Light winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position, inching to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the ground. He held his head momentarily, no doubt beginning to experience a head rush, and slowly got to his feet.

It didn't last long. He lifted one foot of the ground, attempted to step towards L—and fell.

"Light!" L gasped before he could comprehend what he was saying, and the next moment he was reaching out subconsciously, and the moment after that Light was pulled tight to his chest. He'd caught him mid-fall, it seemed, and was now cradling him to his chest like a child. It had been pure instinct, he told himself—and the results of said instinct felt heavenly. The teen felt small in his arms, much more delicate than he would have thought just by looking at him.

"Ryuzaki," Light protested, beginning to squirm now that his head rush was presumably gone. His fingers clenched, and L became aware that Light was clutching at his shirt like a child. Another result of instinct, surely. "Please let me go; I'm perfectly fine now."

L hesitated a moment longer before complying. _Damn it all,_ he thought, _I need to get this under control._ "I merely wanted to stop you from falling."

"O-of course…thank you."

Was that a blush? No, surely not…L had to be imagining it. "You're quite welcome. Now, a shower…?"

"Yes, forgive me…" Light took another step, pausing briefly before continuing. He was most likely trying to make sure he didn't fall and end up in the same compromising position as before. He whisked away, hands unbound, feet unfettered, and entered the bathroom. L wasn't far behind, closing and locking the door behind him. He didn't miss the teen's weary glance at the locked door, but he said nothing.

L reached for the shower, turning it on and making sure the dial was set to a warm temperature. It was beginning to grow cold out, and a warm shower would do them both good. He glanced subtly to Light, who was staring uncertainly at the water.

"It will be hard to take a shower if you won't remove your clothing," L hinted, refraining from beginning to undress until Light was past the point of no return. The teen would surely refuse if he did it any other way.

"I know…" Light murmured reluctantly. "I just…"

L sighed. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Light."

His head snapped up. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "Have you been watching me?"

"No, no," L soothed, glossing over his momentary mistake in referencing the cameras. "I meant that I have solved a great many cases, and that I have been in situations similar to this one before."

Light offered him a ghost of a smile. "Lie." But still, his hands went to his black long-sleeved shirt, and a moment later he was peeling it up and over his head. It hit the ground beside L's feet, and for a moment his eyes refused to leave Light's exposed front. He'd seen it before, through cameras but this was different. Now he could see every crease, every muscle, every imperfection—though there were few. Light wasn't overly toned or overly muscular, just as the cameras had suggested. Instead, he was pleasantly thin with lightly defined muscles, all contained beneath golden skin. He was beautiful without question.

"You're staring!" Light accused, cheeks red (though it could have been a result of the heated steam that was beginning to gather in the bathroom as the water warmed). "Ryuzaki, at least turn away for just a moment."

"We've already—"

"Yeah, yeah," Light cut him off, sighing heavily. "We've already discussed this. Sorry." The flush remained as he undid his pants and pulled them down, leaving him in the plaid boxers L had lent him earlier. And then he reached for those as well, and in the blink of an eye he was completely naked. L barely had time to blink before Light ducked around him and made a beeline for the shower, hiding beneath the water and the steam.

L smirked lightly, exhibiting at least a small level of restraint as he politely kept his eyes from wandering below the belt. Light seemed to appreciate it, though he voiced nothing. The detective waited until Light reached for the shampoo and began washing his hair before he executed the second part of his plan. He reached for his shirt, and yanked it off in one, fluid motion.

Light noticed immediately. "Ryuzaki?" he asked, sounding slightly panicked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower, Light." He kept his expression purposefully blank.

"Not now you're not! You'll shower after me, got it?"

"But Light, all the hot water will be gone!"

"Then I'll get out before I've used it. Just stop undressing, got it?"

L stripped himself of his pants as Light spoke. "It'll save water."

"I don't care—stop that this instant!"

"Fine, then," L said, "in that case, I'm joining you because there's a possibility that you're doing something sinister and using the steam as cover."

Light spluttered, "The steam isn't even that thick!"

"No matter, Light. I'm sure you understand my suspicion, seeing as we don't yet know how Kira kills. For all I know, you could be killing people right now." He hooked his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, but didn't pull them down.

"Ryuzaki, come on…" Light trailed off, eyes flickering to where L was grasping at his boxers. "You can't really expect me to—"

"If you don't allow me to do this, then I'm afraid that I will become even more convinced that you are Kira."

Light's eyes widened. "Is that a threat, Ryuzaki? Are you threatening me?"

"No, of course not," L responded vaguely, though that was indeed what he was doing. "I'm simply informing you that my suspicion will be increased to a reasonable degree if you do not comply."

Light didn't seem to know how to respond.

"You may turn away," L informed him. "There's no reason you have to look at me, if it makes you uncomfortable." And then he was yanking off his boxers, purposefully leaving too little time for Light to turn away before he was completely exposed. He smirked at the dark blush that colored his suspect's cheeks as he whipped around, water coursing down his lightly muscled back. L pulled open the shower door and slipped in, grateful that the shower was large enough to comfortably maneuver around in without making Light too uncomfortable. If they wished, they could stretch out their arms in either direction without striking the walls.

"I can't believe you," Light muttered, still working the shampoo into his hair. He stuck his head under the showerhead a moment later, beginning to rake the lather out with his fingers (L hadn't provided him a comb).

"There's really nothing to believe," was L's response as he switched places with Light, wetting his hair and reaching for his coconut-scented shampoo. He poured the thick goop atop his head in generous amounts, catching the way Light's nose curled as the sweet scent filled the shower.

"God, Ryuzaki," he complained, applying soap to a washcloth and beginning to run it across his arms. "Do you love sugar so much that you have to bathe in it?"

L scrunched his features into a pout as he rinsed his hair, stepping aside to allow Light to rinse the suds from his arms. "I simply enjoy it. Don't you think it smells good?"

Light, who frequently used eucalyptus-scented shampoo, wrinkled his nose. "No, Ryuzaki, I'm sure you know that I do not enjoy sugary things." His expression momentarily flickered with a deep weariness as he stated, "To be perfectly honest, I thought I'd _imagined_ that you smelled like coconut."

L hummed in amusement as he reached for his sweet-scented body wash, squirting some of the liquid soap onto a washcloth and rubbing at his chest and stomach. It was a bit more than L normally used, but the disgusted expression on Light's face made it all worth it. "Is something wrong, Light?" he asked innocently.

The teen, whose eyes had briefly darted over to regard L's use of the sweet-scented body wash, immediately jerked his eyes away. "No," he said, returning his washcloth to his skin. "There's no problem at all."

L smirked, but Light didn't see it. His eyes locked, if only for a moment, onto the way the water was cascading down his suspect's body, and the smirk only grew in size. But then he frowned deeply, wiping the smirk from his face, and thought, _no, no! Come on, snap out of it! You can think that way as much as you want, but you are_ not _allowed to do anything to Light!_ He shook his head lightly, droplets of water spraying from the thick black mess atop his head.

"Ryuzaki!" Light complained as some of the discarded droplets spattered onto him. "Come on, at least have the courtesy to refrain from spraying me with water!" He whipped around, water cascading from his soaked hair.

L found himself staring directly into those amber eyes. He swallowed hard. "Sorry…" he muttered, eyes straying to the strands of hair clinging to the skin around the teen's eyes, plastered flat against his cheeks. Said eyes immediately narrowed to slits upon hearing L's apology, and the next moment he was turning away. L was obviously supposed to feel threatened, or otherwise shameful for having done what he had, but instead he was left with a vague sense of curiosity. _Is Light taller than me?_ He wondered arbitrarily. He straightened his spine just to check, casting a not-so-subtle glance at his suspect, and found that no, Light was not taller than him. The teen was maybe three inches shorter when L straightened his spine, but when he was stooped over Light appeared the slightest bit taller. How interesting.

Light wordlessly stepped out from under the water and maneuvered around L, making his way to the other end of the shower, where he grabbed a bottle of green apple conditioner. He immediately began working the white substance into his hair as L, finally managing to shake himself out of his stupor, stepped under the spray to wash the suds from his skin. But still, his eyes wandered—and the way Light was standing just then, the gentle, almost girlish curves of his body, the way he was leaning just a bit too hard on one foot—it reminded him so much of the dreams he'd been having. And as he made the connection, a tiny prickle of some unknowable feeling washed through him, and he immediately knew that he needed to stop if he didn't want to embarrass himself.

L kept quiet as Light began to rinse the conditioner out of his hair. The silence between them began to stretch, and L felt a slight prickle of unease that he wasn't sure Light shared. The teen seemed utterly oblivious, in fact, sparing the detective not even a glance. The lack of conversation was beginning to make L tense. He wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to do something, say something, to break it. And so without thinking, he blurted out, "Most males your age don't use conditioner."

Light shot him a look that was half amused and half irritated, and L immediately clamped his mouth shut. _Idiot, what are you doing? That sounded incredibly foolish._

"Well you know, Ryuzaki," the teen said, "most men your age don't make a habit of using sugary-scented shampoo and cinnamon body wash."

The detective flinched.

"What's more," Light continued, "I don't believe that most men your age enjoy the act of staring rather shamelessly at their _male_ friend while he's in the midst of a shower."

"W-what—?"

Light continued to wash conditioner from his hair, turning his head away so that he was no longer looking at his companion. "Do you believe that I'm blind?"

L immediately jerked his gaze away, forcing out, "I don't know what you believe you saw, but I was certainly not staring at you."

"Hmm." The noise was of neither agreement nor denial, and it drove L mad.

"I'm telling you that I wasn't—!"

"At least be subtle about it, Ryuzaki. I'll begin to get the wrong idea if you keep it up."

The detective drew in a sharp breath, struggling to hold back the heat that was beginning to build in his cheeks. Light's teasing smirk didn't make matters any better.

"Calm down," the teen said with an amused chuckle. "I'm only joking, Ryuzaki."

Still frozen, L could do nothing but watch as Light stepped out from under the stream of water.

"I'm done," Light reported, opening the shower door and reaching for a towel. "You're really slow, you know that?"

The detective shook his head in disbelief. _What was that I said about him? That he would be my biggest challenge yet?_ He watched, water catching only the tips of his toes as it cascaded from the faucet, as Light wrapped his towel around his waist and began to pad towards the sink, reaching for a brush.

_Oh yes—a challenge indeed._

†††

After the rather uncomfortable events of the shower, L allowed Light a brief respite from the chains. It was more than anything to make up for being forced to share a shower—and Light seemed more than willing to accept his act of mercy.

"You know," L said as they stood, still slightly dripping, "this place has a balcony."

The flicker of hope in Light's eyes was hard to miss, however hard he tried to conceal it. "You…would let me go outside? What if I try to signal someone, or try to throw you over the edge?"

L was more than certain that he was completely safe from Light on the balcony—after all, the Death Note was nowhere in sight. And so just this once, he decided to be lenient. "If you would prefer that I blindfold you and chain you to one of the chairs, then I will do so. But if you intend to behave yourself, then I believe that you can be trusted to not attempt to murder me. After all, if I die in your presence, Watari has been ordered to have you executed."

The teen's eyes widened slightly. "No, no," he said, trying (and failing) to conceal his eagerness. "I won't try to murder you."

L almost laughed at the way the words broke over the air around them. It was certainly not a sentence he'd ever thought he would need to hear from one of his suspects. "Fine, then. The balcony is over there." He pointed to the wall of curtains to the right of the bed. "I've kept the curtains drawn so no one could look in, you understand." Keeping his back comfortably hunched, L shuffled his way over to the drapes and pulled them apart, revealing the slate-gray skyline. The entire wall was essentially a massive window made of incredibly thick glass, with a rather small door centered in the midst of the thing that led to a large balcony. L shot a subtle glance in Light's direction, and was immensely satisfied with the relieved expression on his face. "Come on, then," he called over his shoulder, reaching out and grasping the padlock (which wasn't common to the hotel, but something that L had added as an extra layer of security), entering the four-digit code, and pushing the doors outwards.

Light moved towards him in slow motion. His feet, still bare and uncovered, left indentations in the soft carpet as he made for the balcony. He swept past L without another word, and the instant the fresh air hit his face, his entire demeanor seemed to change. His shoulders slumped, the tension in his neck seemed to dissipate, his breathing eased—his entire body relaxed, and L marveled at the change.

Light lifted his head up slightly as a soft breeze whistled through the balcony, ruffling his damp hair and peeling it away from his face, on which it had previously been stuck. He sighed heavily, though it was not a sigh of exasperation or frustration, both of which L had become so acquainted with over the past two weeks he'd known him.

"Is this satisfactory?" L questioned arbitrarily, for he knew that it was.

Light didn't seem aware of the gentle smile on his face as he responded. "Yeah, Ryuzaki. It is."

"You seem to like the outdoors," he commented, following the teen out onto the balcony and shutting the door behind him.

"What makes you say that?" Light asked, back still turned to him.

"You're so fascinated by that forest." L walked further onto the balcony, looking around. It was a pleasantly large area with tall black railing enclosing its entirety, furnished with a high table and two chairs. And seeing as the sun was just beginning to set, it was beautiful as well. The fading light set everything on the balcony alight, outlining the dark furniture with even darker flame. In a few minutes it would be entirely dark, and it would be lit only by the tiny bulb screwed into a fixture that hung over the doorway.

"Oh yeah," Light said, as if he'd forgotten. Unfortunately, his back was turned, so L couldn't search those eyes to figure out if he was pretending that the premise had slipped his mind. "I'd really like to go there again, you know. I miss it already."

"Yes, you seemed to go there quite often."

Light was silent for a moment. "And there was that game I played that one night, seated on that felled tree in the clearing that I so enjoyed visiting. Do you think we could play that game together sometime?"

L remembered that day well, of course. He'd seen Light playing chess by himself, bathed in the light of the moon. "We've already played chess once before," he reminded him, "but we can play again if you wish."

Another pause. "I see. Thank you, Ryuzaki."

There was a light rumble in the sky. Thunder.

L shuffled his feet, well aware of the sudden tension, though he wasn't aware of whose side it resonated from. "Shall we sit?" he asked, attempting to slice through the tension-filled air.

Light's back remained to him. "Yeah," he said at last. "I'd like that." He moved slowly, never turning to face L as he reached for one of the two chairs on the balcony and drew it back, sliding into it smoothly. L's eyes locked onto the movement, and almost against his will, he found himself enthralled by the slow, languid motions that Light exhibited as he leaned back in the chair, momentarily stretching his arms above his head before crossing them over his chest, one leg crossing the other at the ankle, knees slightly spread. The sunset outlined him just as it did the rest of the balcony, and L didn't bother trying to be subtle about the way he stared at him. _If I keep this up, he'll notice my apparent infatuation and use it against me,_ L realized. _I need to be careful about letting him know too much._

If Light noticed the staring, he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out one hand to rest on the patio table, tracing the diamond-patterned tiles with a finger.

L moved to the other chair and pulled it out, hopping up onto it in his signature crouch. He glanced across the table at his companion and saw that his head was turned, presenting his profile to the dark, searching eyes of the detective. The sun sank lower.

"You know, Ryuzaki…" Light murmured, "something keeps bothering me."

"And what would that be, Light?"

Those long, pale fingers began to drum against the tile. "My record of Kira's victims."

"What about it?"

Another short pause. Then, "Don't you think the timing was a bit… _convenient?"_

He'd brought this up before. "Not in particular, no."

"I mean, this whole thing with Kira started about two weeks ago, right? Right before I met you. One day you were just _there,_ and the next you were telling me that I was your suspect. And then you vanished. I know that it was intentional, and I know—or at least strongly suspect—that you did it to throw me off. You thought that I was Kira, and that if you began to apply pressure, I would get nervous and do something to protect myself. But how would you know if I made a move? You would have to have some way of watching me, wouldn't you? That way, if I did something that proved my identity, you would have proof. But if that was what you were trying to do, just having someone _see_ me performing the crime wouldn't be as strong as having it on tape."

L's heart skipped a beat. Had Light analyzed his actions so thoroughly? "Are you suggesting that I had some method of surveillance placed where it would catch your movements?" he asked.

"I'm not suggesting much of anything," was Light's response. "I'm just pointing out how curious it is that your disappearance coincided with the sudden addition of twenty-four names to my record of Kira victims. Names that I did not write." He leaned forward slightly, and now his eyes were locked on L with a fierce determination. The tapping had stopped. "And do you know what else I find interesting? A few days before you mysteriously vanished, Kira's killing patterns changed. Until then, he'd only killed people who had already been sentenced to death. But then, out of the blue, he began killing criminals who had done nothing to deserve their punishment."

"Then, you believe that the criminals who had already been sentenced to death deserved to die?"

Light's expression remained even. All of his previous fire was gone, masked behind a layer of guarded calculation. "For the hundredth time, yes. The justice system had already determined that they were deserving of death, so why should the few days Kira robs them of make any difference? But that's beside the point. My point is this: Kira began killing in a new pattern, you disappeared, and those names appeared in my records all around the same time. Don't you find that a bit strange?"

L very much hoped that Light wasn't beginning to suspect that he was also working as a deliverer of justice. If he managed to put two and two together and figure out that L was the one killing the criminals who didn't deserve death as a part of his attempt to force Kira to take drastic measures. If he did, then he would have a whole other set of problems on his hands. But then again, if Light was Kira, and he figured everything out…wouldn't it be advantageous for L to guide him in using the Death Note for good? He could take the role of mentor and teach the teen everything he knew, keeping him firmly on the path of justice. Of course, L had to consider the fact that if Light was Kira, he hadn't actually done anything wrong just yet (all the criminals he'd killed had already been sentenced to death, as far as he knew)—but the notebook hadn't been wrong yet, and it clearly stated that Kira was evil. Therefore, if Light was Kira, he had a deep wealth of evil lurking within him, even if it was simply lying in wait beneath the surface. Anything could set it off if L didn't step in and save him. But with that being said, he couldn't exactly begin saving Light until he was proven to be Kira—and if Light was Kira, he wouldn't trust L with that information unless the detective proved that he too was working to rid the world of those criminals who had escaped their righteous punishment. L would have to get Light to confess by confessing to him first. But again, this was a problem. If Light wasn't Kira (which was unlikely, in L's opinion) then confessing to him would have serious repercussions. L's reputation could be ruined if someone on the outside knew who he was. He might even be killed if the wrong people got their hands on Light.

So, then—he had to be careful. He couldn't confess to Light until he was certain he was Kira. He couldn't help Light until Light began to help himself.

"Well?" Light asked, and L realized that he'd been silent for several moments.

"Why, yes," L murmured belatedly. "I suppose that is strange. But I assure you, it is entirely a coincidence."

The tapping resumed. "Even if it is a coincidence, the fact still remains that you were watching me."

"I fail to see how you have come to that conclusion," L said sharply. "I can grant you that I was waiting for you to slip up, but you have no proof that I was observing you."

Light's movements ceased entirely, and the next moment he was flashing him a knowing smile through a curtain of amber hair. "On the contrary. You messed up, L."

"How so?"

His smile remained in place as he practically purred, "I never told you that I spent my time in a specific _clearing_ in the forest, Ryuzaki. I told you about the forest, yes, but never about the clearing specifically. And yet you knew what I was talking about."

"I wasn't the one who mentioned the clearing," L reminded him, momentarily relieved. "You brought it up; I simply agreed with what you were saying."

"That's true…" Light murmured, leaning back. "Or, it _would_ be true if not for one, simple oversight. You see, earlier I referenced the day I went to the forest in the middle of the night. You didn't act surprised. This in and of itself suggests that you were watching me, and already knew of my midnight excursion. However, this is not enough to say that you were watching. This is why I referenced the game I played, without ever explicitly stating which game that was. I then suggested that we plan the game some time, to which you responded that we'd already played once before. You couldn't have said that without knowing that I meant chess." He smirked, crossing his arms triumphantly. "Therefore, I can say with almost complete certainty that you were watching me. Of course, this still doesn't tell me whether or not you were watching through cameras. But it's better than nothing, you understand. I had limited resources to work with."

_Remarkable…he managed to figure all that out due to a simple slip of the tongue on my part. I'll have to be more careful in the future—with a brain like that, he could figure out what I'm doing at any time. He might already be suspicious._ "That is quite impressive," he said at last, keeping the surprise in his voice to a minimum. "I can see that you're not the top student in Japan for nothing."

"No," Light agreed, his smirk deepening. He certainly seemed satisfied with himself. "You'd be surprised with some of the things I've already figured out about you, Ryuzaki."

"Would you care to share any of these things you've discovered?"

The teen turned up his nose. "No, I don't think so. It's the only advantage I have, you understand."

"I do. I will admit to having taken away all of the things you could possibly have used to one-up me. I hate to lose, you understand, and I thought it would be easier if I made it clear that _you_ were going to lose right from the beginning. I've left no room for negotiation between us."

"No," Light agreed, smirk immediately vanishing from his face, a somber expression appearing in its place. "You certainly seem the domineering type."

L shot his companion a toothy grin. "You've got that right." Then he paused, wondering why he'd said it. Why he'd smiled. Wasn't it more like him to deny the obvious and hide behind his subtlety? It had to be Light _…_ he was why this was happening. Something about the teen always managed to throw him out of character, much to his chagrin.

Light looked away again. His fingertips returned to the table, but he didn't resume his tapping. "Do you know what else I suspect?" he asked softly. "I suspect that you're working for L."

A pang of panic shot through L momentarily before he managed to calm himself. _It's okay,_ he thought, _he doesn't know…it's just a suspicion, and he doesn't even think that you're L. He just thinks that you're working for him._ "What makes you think that?"

"Mostly, it's just a hunch. But there is _some_ evidence. For example, you're probably the most socially inept person I've ever met. It's like you've never been outside on your own, preferring to stick to the shadows and solve your little cases. And your caretaker…he seems to take care of you, and yet he takes orders from you. Everyone knows that L has someone like that at his side. And what's more, there's the unconventional methods you've been using. You ransacked my house without any sort of warrant, you've kept me bound to a bed for hours, and if I'm right, you've had me under surveillance. You could only get away with something like that if you worked for someone very powerful—someone able to duck the law whenever it suits him. There are other people who could do something like that, obviously. But then there remains the fact that you had those lines from The Scarlet Letter, the ones that Kira left as a direct message to L. Again, it's possible that you could have found the message through other means. But it's far more likely that you're working for L. It's not a perfect theory, but it works."

"You…have made some excellent points, Light."

"But am I right? Are you working for L?"

Hmm…what to say? Would it be better to let Light believe that he was working for L, or would it be better to tell him that there was no relation between the two?

"Or perhaps," Light murmured when L took a moment too long to respond, " _you_ areL. Ever think of that, Ryuzaki?"

_Damage control! Perform damage control!_ "I am not L," L lied. "You should know that L never shows his face. There's no way he would deign to appear in the midst of such a dangerous case. But I will grant you that I work for him, at least to some extent."

L didn't like the look in Light's eyes. It was almost star-struck, entirely too admiring. Was it possible that the teen was infatuated with the idea of L? If so, could L use that to his advantage?

The teen asked, "L knows of me, then? Is he the one that suspects me?"

"I am the one that suspects you. I am the one who drew L's attention to you in the first place. Without me, he never would have noticed you."

Was that disappointment in Light's eyes? "Ryuzaki, I know this is probably an exasperating question for you to have to answer, but…what's he like?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know, it's just…" He trailed off momentarily, stars in his eyes that reminded L far too much of Matsuda. "I've always loved solving cases, and so to me, his work was like a template of what I needed to do to become great." His eyes momentarily dipped to his lap in an uncharacteristic sign of bashfulness. "I've always had this dream where I finally joined the NPA and got to work with him on a case."

L knew just by the far-off look in Light's eyes that the teen was sharing something very personal with him. It was confusing, to say the least. Why would Light place any sort of faith in him, confide in him in any way? How very puzzling. "You are very competent. I'm sure that had you joined the NPA, he would have taken notice of you sooner or later."

"Yeah…" Light looked away slowly. "I hope you're right."

L studied the teen's face closely. He longed to lean forward, to grip Light by the jaw and force him to stare into his eyes. Then, maybe, he would proclaim _I am L,_ and watch that admiration bloom across the amber depths. Would Light admire him as much if he knew that L was the person sitting across from him, staring at him through cold, dark eyes? L hoped that he would. He wanted to see those amber pools light up with fire, burning for him and him alone—no matter how eerily possessive such a thing sounded.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the two geniuses into shadow. The tiny light bulb by the door did little to illuminate the large balcony.

L shifted, beginning to get to his feet. But a moment later, a soft voice stopped him.

"Don't. Please, not yet."

L fell back into his seat without having consciously moved. "It's late," he reminded the teen. "And your hair is still wet. You could get sick in this cold weather." Dear god, he sounded like a worried mother.

The smile that Light displayed was genuine and kind, much unlike his smug smirk from earlier. "I like the cold," he informed the detective. "And I can handle the chance of getting sick. Who knows when you'll let me be outside like this again?"

The detective felt an immediate pang of guilt, much akin to the one he'd felt when he'd realized that he'd forgotten to feed Light breakfast and give him water. "I can't make a habit of it, but I can promise that you'll be allowed outside sometimes, at least."

"That's what I thought," Light sighed wearily. "Ryuzaki, tell me the truth…how long do you intend to hold me?"

He had to be honest about this, at least. "I cannot hold you longer than two years." He could have reminded Light that there was the possibility hat he would be released at the end of the third day, but he did not, for there wasn't really a possibility of that happening at all. The twenty-four criminals would die soon, and L would have all the leverage he needed to keep Light indefinitely.

He waited for the implosion, for the yelling, for the screaming, for the rage—but Light didn't respond immediately. And when he did, he simply shrugged, leaning his head on one hand. "All the more reason to enjoy this outing while I have it."

L felt his expression twist painfully. "Light…"

"No, Ryuzaki," the teen murmured. "I don't want you to apologize. You won't mean it."

The darker part of L loved the way Light was staring out over the skyline, eyes masked with indescribable pain at the prospect of spending two years at L's side. But the lighter part, the one that was currently making an appearance, wanted very much to pull Light close and tell him that it would be okay, that even if he was Kira, he would help him the best he could. But in reality he said nothing, did nothing, and Light spoke no further.

They sat together for hours, until the chill became too much to take. They sat so long that L's fingers became numb, and Light was taken by a violent fit of shivers. The moon was high in the sky, hanging ominously overhead, when L finally got to his feet. He looked over at Light, whose eyelids were drooping as he attempted to stay awake. He glanced up at L wearily when he moved, but said nothing. He too knew that they had to return to his prison.

L stumbled slightly when he got to his feet, surprised at just how numb his toes were. He clenched his fists and found that his fingers were in much the same state. His head immediately snapped to Light, who didn't seem to be reacting to anything around him. He was momentarily concerned that the teen had contracted something as dire as frostbite, but he shooed away the fear a moment later as he realized that the teen wasn't displaying any symptoms. Most likely, he was simply tired.

The detective moved to Light's side and vaguely gestured for him to rise, not wishing to speak and break the silence that consumed them. Light didn't respond. And so L, giving in to a desire he'd had since Light's fall shortly before their shower, leaned down and scooped him up. The teen didn't fight. He didn't lean into L either—he simply stayed where he was, cradled impassively against the detective's chest. L, keeping his suspect tucked against him, moved for the door. He opened it and stepped inside, then closed and locked the door behind him. It was stiflingly warm inside the bedroom—or perhaps that was just a sign of how cold L had gotten. Light shivered slightly in his arms, though his eyes remained glossed over. He didn't react to L carrying him to the bed. He didn't react to the detective returning him to the chains. He didn't react when L collapsed into the bed beside him, feeling, for the second time in as many days, the desire to sleep for a few hours. He kept himself away from Light for a moment, telling himself that he couldn't stomach a repeat of the previous night's dream. If he stayed away from his suspect, then it was less likely that he'd dream about him in _that_ way. But then he glanced over and saw Light, violently shivering despite his insistence that he liked and could handle the cold. The shivering was already beginning to subside, his eyes were already closed, his breathing was already steadying—but he was still shaking slightly, and when L reached over and pressed his fingertips to the teen's arm, he felt that he was cold as ice.

_He'll warm up beneath the sheets,_ L told himself as he inched slightly closer. _He won't be in any danger,_ he thought as he draped one arm gingerly over his waist. _I should keep my distance,_ he insisted as he pressed himself to Light's side.

He yawned. Light wasn't awake to reject him any more. It was nice, and warmer than it would have been if L had simply rolled over and ignored the teen. He liked it. A lot. _Good,_ he thought sleepily, fighting back another yawn. _I'm sure I won't have that dream again…I'm sure I'll be fine if I just…stay…here…_

And with that, L drifted of to sleep, completely and blissfully unaware that Light _was_ awake, and that had the detective looked up, he would have seen a delicate blush coloring his cheeks.


	15. Isa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new challenger approaches...

Light was relieved to discover that Ryuzaki didn't molest him in his sleep again. Whatever dream the detective had been experiencing, whatever gorgeous woman he'd been moving against so aggressively, he hadn't gone back. However, Ryuzaki _had_ trapped him something of a tight embrace for the duration of the night. It couldn't have been overly comfortable for the detective, what with the way he was forced to contort his body to fit against Light's bound form. But still, he stayed—and because he was warm, and because Light was cold, he let him stay (or at least, that's what he told himself).

It was just after sunrise when Light awoke. His head felt slightly heavy, and his face felt warm. Ryuzaki was still asleep, his head resting on the teen's chest, fingers curled tightly into his shirt. This was the second time this had happened, Light noted. Did it mean something, or was Ryuzaki just more socially inept than he seemed to be? Or was he simply cold after their outing and seeking warmth?

Light found his mind wandering back to all of his brief interactions with Ryuzaki. He remembered the blatant fascination in the other's eyes whenever they watched him, despite the fact that the detective seemed to attempt to hide it at every turn. He remembered the detective's taunting embrace the first time they'd spoken, when he'd drawn him close and openly challenged him to a battle of wits. He remembered the light touches over the past two days, the way Ryuzaki persisted in brushing his fingers across his chest, his shoulder, his cheek, whenever he had any excuse to be near him. He remembered the way L's eyes had lingered on him for just a moment too long while they were in the shower. Of course, Light had also been guilty of staring—Ryuzaki had beautifully pale skin, and despite his scrawny build, he possessed a fair amount of muscle.

Light frowned, feeling momentarily unsettled. All of these observations—they were leading to something, building up to some unknowable realization—but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But still…it was on the tip of his tongue, dangling at the edge of his mind. Soon…

Ryuzaki shifted, coming to life. It started as a light tremor, one that Light could easily feel through the detective's thin shirt. Next, his fingers began to shift lightly, twisting into the black cotton shirt beneath him. His breath hitched a moment after that, though not in the mildly disturbing way it had the night before. His head pressed down slightly, nuzzling into Light's chest in a way that was, despite the teen's will to ignore it, at least slightly adorable.

Ryuzaki let out a tiny noise, and Light felt a soft puff of warm air through his shirt. Those fingers tightened even further. But a moment later the detective's entire form tensed, and his soft breaths turned to a single, strained gasp.

_Hmm? What's this? Is he…embarrassed?_ Light watched with fascination as the detective slowly lifted his head, as if trying not to get caught retreating. But Light had already seen him, had already figured out what he was doing. And so when the detective raised his head, his eyes locked onto Light's immediately, and the tension between the two grew severely.

"…Ryuzaki," Light greeted, forcing his expression to remain neutral. He wanted very much to antagonize the man after the embarrassment he'd been forced to endure in the shower.

"Light," was the hesitant response. He still hadn't drawn fully away. "Did you sleep well?"

"Quite well. I was a bit cold, however."

"One could only have expected such a thing. After all, you did insist upon staying outside in the cold for several hours. I even had to carry you back inside."

A pang of something between amusement and irritation shot through Light's chest. He'd forgotten about that. He'd barely been coherent at the time, but now he remembered it all. The warmth of Ryuzaki's arms, the way he'd cradled him to his chest—all of it. It took everything he had to contain his blush. _No, no,_ he thought, _you're supposed to be angry at him. He humiliated you in the shower, and he made you uncomfortable during that dream of his the night before the last. You are_ angry. _Say it with me—angry._ "Ah, yes…thank you for that."

"I was concerned that you would become ill."

Light cleared his throat awkwardly. His head felt slightly fuzzy, but other than that he was completely fine. "Thank you for your concern, but as you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

Ryuzaki frowned. His face was still incredibly close. He reached out a hand suddenly, pressing his cool fingertips to Light's forehead—and the frown deepened. "You're slightly warm," he announced, "but it's nothing serious. It's most likely just warmth from remaining under the covers for so long, or perhaps…" He trailed off, hid frown turning into a light smile. "…Embarrassment."

"I am not embarrassed! Now take your hands off me at once!" If anything, his words only made matters worse.

The detective's smile widened slightly. He didn't move. "Are you sure, Light? Are you sure you aren't embarrassed by something I'm doing? I'll stop at once if you are, you know."

Light very much doubted that that was true. "No," he snapped, "you're doing nothing to make me uncomfortable. But I would appreciate it if you released me. I need to attend to something the restroom."

"A shower?" Ryuzaki asked, an almost hopeful look in his eyes.

Light resisted the urge to bare his teeth in a nasty sneer. "No. I simply wish to use the facilities."

Another moment of silence, in which those piercing obsidian eyes refused to waver. Then, "Fine. I will unchain you for a few minutes. But after that we will eat breakfast, and our day will begin. There is much to do to make up for lost time."

"That's right," Light said suddenly, memories falling into place. "You were supposed to release me today if recent criminals continued to die, and if those twenty-four criminals met their end."

"Ah, yes…well, something has come up, as I briefly explained last night. I'll give you the details later, but for now…" Ryuzaki reached over and unfastened the restraints.

This time it took only a few seconds for Light to sit up, and when he got to his feet, there was minimal staggering. Though, Light noticed, Ryuzaki's arms were conveniently poised to catch him again should he fall. The teen murmured his thanks, then disappeared into the bathroom. The detective wasn't far behind.

"I'm surprised that your father hasn't called yet," Ryuzaki remarked offhandedly. "He seemed quite eager to phone you."

"Hmm, just give it a few hours," Light murmured in response. He popped his toothbrush into his mouth after applying a healthy coating of toothpaste. He attempted around a mouthful of foam, "He'll be banging down the door even if I answer the phone and tell him everything is fine."

The detective's ears pricked up. "You would tell him that everything is fine?"

"Of course I would. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I will be the first to admit that I've made several errors in judgment when it comes to taking care of you."

Light briefly remembered how miserable he'd been the previous day, forced to lay for hours without any sign of Ryuzaki returning to help him. "Yeah," he muttered, "you've made quite a few _errors._ But luckily for you, I want my name to be cleared more than I want to get back at you for leaving me tied to a bed for hours. So no, I'm not going to tell my father about your silly little mistakes."

Light wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of guilt in Ryuzaki's eyes. "I appreciate your understanding. I've never had to take care of someone else before, and I'm a bit uncertain of what to do."

Despite his situation, Light felt a flicker of amusement. "A good start would be remembering to give me a drink now and again."

"Perhaps I should just give you over to Watari, that way I won't make any more mistakes."

The teen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You won't do that. You're too intent upon studying me up close, figuring out if I fit your profile of Kira."

"I suppose you're right." There was a knock at the door. "Come in, Watari," Ryuzaki commanded in a low tone.

The door opened, and Watari entered. He held a tray, just like the day before, that was laden with sweets. But much to Light's relief, there also sat a bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal—something obviously meant for him, since Ryuzaki wasn't exactly the type to eat a balanced breakfast.

"Thank you, Watari," Ryuzaki said, accepting the tray and setting it on the bed.

The man dipped his head politely, sparing not even a glance at Light as he turned and left the room.

Ryuzaki immediately reached for one of the sweets, popping it into his mouth. He hummed contentedly. "Hmm…these are quite good, you know. Would you like one?" He plucked a mini doughnut from the tray and dangled it before Light tantalizingly.

Light wrinkled his nose. "I've already told you, Ryuzaki, I don't like sugar."

Ryuzaki sighed, as if he'd truly hoped that Light would have changed his mind about sugar over the span of twenty-four hours. "Very well, then." His hands reached for the bowl of oatmeal gingerly, as if he was disgusted by the mere thought of touching it. For just a moment Light became afraid that he was going to be forced to endure the same humiliation from the day before, and that Ryuzaki would insist upon feeding him—but then the detective smiled, albeit hesitantly, and said, "I would be willing to free your hands for a moment, if you wish to feed yourself."

"What," Light scoffed, "not up to humiliating me today?"

"If you'd rather me—"

"No, no," Light said swiftly. "Please, free my hands."

The look Ryuzaki shot him was nauseatingly triumphant. "As you wish, Light."

A moment later a soft click met Light's ears, and he felt the metal around his wrists loosen. He immediately began to rub at the sore appendages, wincing as he ran a finger across the thick bruises. Ryuzaki always seemed to keep the handcuffs just a bit too tight, so that struggling against them brought jolts of biting pain. "Thanks," he muttered begrudgingly.

Ryuzaki nodded shortly and handed Light the bowl of oatmeal.

"So," Light said, stirring around the bowl with his spoon, keeping his eyes cast to the milky substance. "What's on the agenda today?"

The detective cocked his head to one side. "Psychological analysis, of course."

Light grumbled, "Of course."

"I've already told you that you were here so that I could profile you. If I can understand the way you think, then I can figure out whether or not you fit the profile of Kira."

Light narrowed his eyes at his meal. Ryuzaki had already told him that he was there so that he could profile him, and so that if the killings stopped, and those twenty-four criminals died, he would know that he was Kira. But now…hadn't Ryuzaki said that the killings were continuing? But something was making him keep him here, even though the killings hadn't stopped for a minute, and as far as he knew, those twenty-four criminals were still alive. This, Light knew, was a crucialpiece of evidence. It meant that the other Kiras, whoever they were, were still working to kill criminals. It also meant that if Ryuzaki was at all intelligent, he would have begun to suspect the existence of another Kira. This made things complicated. Light had hoped, as ridiculous as it may have been, that Ryuzaki, upon realizing that the murders weren't stopping, would release him immediately. Unfortunately, seeing as Ryuzaki hadn't yet released him, it didn't seem that this would be the case. So, then, what was the point? It was impossible for Ryuzaki to determine if he was Kira simply by keeping him in the hotel. All he could do was profile him and speculate based on the results. But still, despite fact that no certain evidence could be derived from the situation, Ryuzaki wouldn't release him. If he did, and if Light was Kira, then he would go right back to killing criminals.

A no-win situation, then. If Ryuzaki kept Light there, then he wouldn't be able to prove that he was Kira without divine intervention. If he let Light go, then there was a possibility that he would go back to killing people (at least, that's how Ryuzaki would see it). There was no easy way out—and so Ryuzaki, it seemed, had decided to go for the option that left the least chance of more people dying.

"Light?" Ryuzaki asked, and the teen realized that sometime in the midst of his thinking, his eyes had risen and locked onto the detective's face. "Are you okay?"

Light hummed, slowly turning away. "Yeah…I'm fine, Ryuzaki." He took a few bites of oatmeal, but he wasn't hungry. "Would you explain just what you intend to do to profile me?"

"I am going to talk to you. What else would I do?"

"I…" Light trailed off, his train of thought momentarily evading his grasp. "Sorry, I just feel a bit…unfocused."

Ryuzaki frowned, and a moment later his wrist was pressed to the teen's forehead.

"Ryuzaki, get off!" Light protested, denying the way his heart began to pump just the slightest bit faster. "What are you—?"

"You're not warm," he said. "Do you feel ill?"

"I'm not sick!" Light protested, brushing the detective's arm away from him. "I'm just a little distracted!"

Ryuzaki nodded, a vague flicker of understanding in his dark eyes. "Yes, I believe I can understand that. You are, after all, under quite heavy suspicion at the moment."

Light jerked his head away.

Ryuzaki's frown deepened, and he leaned slightly closer. "You're red, Light. Are you sure you're not warm?"

"I'm not," Light growled. He forced himself to consume a few more bites of oatmeal, his stomach gurgling, protesting every bite. "Be quiet, Ryuzaki!"

The detective immediately leaned back as if he'd been struck, though that dull expression didn't change. "Very well."

"Tell me about something else," Light requested in a murmur, needing something to take his mind off of their conversation. "Tell me why you're keeping me here even though the killings have continued without pause and those criminals haven't died."

"Ah yes, that…" the detective murmured. "Well, things have gotten a bit more complicated." He shifted, leaning slightly closer again. "Tell me, Light, what do you think has happened?"

Hmm? He was asking him what he thought happened? But…why?

_That's obvious…_ Light realized suddenly. _He's waiting to see if you say anything that you're not supposed to know. If you say something that gives you away, then he'll have ample proof that you're Kira. You have to be careful—more careful than ever._

"Well…" he said slowly, running over the facts again and again. "You've already told me that people have continued to die without pause. But you haven't released me. There has to be a reason." Light schooled his features into the perfect expression of thoughtfulness. He couldn't come to his conclusion too swiftly or it would look suspicious. But if he took too long, then it would look forced. "Let's see…unfortunately, such evidence makes it quite easy to realize that there must be another Kira out there. There are two people with Kira's power, if not more." In fact, Light knew that there were three people—but he couldn't say anything about it. "If I had to guess, then I'd say that that's why you're keeping me here. It's because you can't know if I'm Kira or not, because even if I am, people wouldn't stop dying after my imprisonment. So I'd say that we're waiting to see if those twenty-four criminals die. Even then, though, you won't know for certain."

Ryuzaki drew his thumb over his bottom lip. "You've got it exactly right."

"If you already knew, why did you ask?" Light asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, I just wanted to see if you came to the same conclusion. You see, the task force doesn't trust me much at the moment, so my word alone isn't much for them to go on when it comes to the existence of a second Kira. But if both of us reached the same conclusion, then they can't deny the obvious connections."

"Simple enough." Light set the bowl of oatmeal aside, having eaten only a small portion. "If that's all, then can we move on to the psychological profiling? If I eat any more, I think I might actually be sick."

The teen half expected Ryuzaki to begin feeling his forehead again to se if he was genuinely ill, but instead all he said was, "Very well. If that is what you want, then let us begin our conversation."

†††

A few minutes later, L had set everything up the way he wanted it. And Light, much to his satisfaction, looked furious.

The teen had been relocated to one of the other rooms of the hotel room—one that had been stripped of all furniture save for a table and two chairs, situated across from each other. A small light fixture cast a warm glow over the room, making what could only be described as an interrogation room seem a bit more hospitable. Light, however, did not seem to think the situation was hospitable.

"This is nice," he said shortly, expression completely calm despite the storm brewing beneath the surface. "You sure you don't want to tie me up a bit more? I can still move a bit of my right upper arm."

L hid a smirk as he raked his eyes down the form of the teen. He was seated in one of the wooden chairs, arms bound to the armrests with thick rope, ankles bound to the chair legs. "Don't be facetious, Light. You're barely even bound."

"I don't think _barely_ covers it," Light muttered, tugging lightly at his bonds.

L purposefully hunched his spine further, making himself look like even more of a slob than he usually did. It ached slightly, bending his spine so low—but the slightly disgusted look Light shot him made it all worth it. He was beginning to _adore_ antagonizing the teen and throwing up an oblivious shield immediately after, so that Light was never sure if he was being serious or not. It was quite alluring, that expression of slight confusion. "Are you ready to begin, Light?"

The teen looked away sharply, expression scrunched in a way that was very clearly supposed to be threatening, but that came off as rather cute instead. "Do your worst," the teen muttered noncommittally, as L silently vowed to refrain from referring to Light as cute again. "How does this thing work, anyways?"

"That is quite simple." L pulled out the chair across from Light and hopped up into it, taking his signature crouch with ease. His toes curled around the seat of the chair, fingers drumming on the table as he said, "I will ask you a series of questions, and you will answer. You may take as much time as you wish to accurately respond to each statement. Your responses will be recorded, and I will review them at length at a later date. As you respond, I may ask follow up questions concerning aspects of your answers that I find unclear. Is this agreeable?"

"I wouldn't call it _agreeable,_ but…" Light trailed off reluctantly, his expression that of someone who knew he had no choice in the matter, but someone who wished to change what was happening. "Never mind. Just get on with it."

L dipped his head. He'd composed a series of questions to ask his suspect, and he didn't want to miss any. "Okay then, Light," he began. "When you're ready, please tell me what you think justice entails."

"We've already been over this," the teen responded immediately. "I believe that justice is whatever the courts believe it is. I support the court's decision wholeheartedly. If they declare that someone deserves to die, then they deserve to die. If they wish to release someone, then that must be the correct thing to do."

"What about when the court makes a mistake?" L asked immediately. "What happens when evidence is misread, and guilty criminals go free? What happens when a criminal is sentenced accordingly, and then manages to escape said punishment through manipulation of the system?"

Light's eyes narrowed, and L could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. He was, no doubt, trying to figure out what response would placate L.

"Please answer honestly, Light," L broke in. "I don't want you to curate your answers to suit what you think I want to hear." Although, the fact that he'd attempted to compose his answers at all spoke volumes about his personality.

Light took a long, exaggerated pause, teeth clenching in a mixture of irritation and nervousness. If such emotion was an act, then the teen was a brilliant actor. "If the courts make a mistake…then every effort should be made to correct that mistake."

How carefully he'd worded his response… "What does that entail?"

"The citizens should protest, and bring it to the court's attention that their ruling was wrong. The court should then reexamine the case, and with the help of the citizens, the sentence could be changed. Justice would be served."

No, no, no…there was no way Light was this naïve. Surely he was acting. "But Light, you must know that our justice system is not flawless. Mistakes are made. Criminals walk free. What would you do about them?"

Light's fists clenched at his sides. "It's infuriating that that's allowed to happen," he muttered. "But I'm not an idiot—I know that you're right, and that our system isn't exactly one-hundred percent accurate. However, no matter how much I wish I could just make it so that all criminals were dealt with according to the severity of their crimes, it just isn't going to happen. I can't do anything, and I'm certainly not calling for the citizens to take the law into their own hands. The truth is, our system is flawed—but what could we change that would improve it? What could we change that wouldn't throw our entire world into disarray?"

L hid a smile, swiftly clamping his teeth down on his tongue. Light was a master of the spoken word, that was for sure. He had a dangerously persuasive manner of speaking. "That's the problem, isn't it? Changing even the tiniest aspect creates ripples—ripples that always leave more wounds than they heal."

"It's a real rut we've gotten ourselves into, yes."

L leaned forward the slightest bit, fixing Light with an intense stare. "If that's what you think, then would you take the opportunity to fix things?"

"Not if it went against the law."

"Hmph…fine, then. Next question: do you agree with Kira?"

"Again, we've been over this, Ryuzaki. I've already told you that I _agreed_ with Kira. I thought that he was doing well in killing those who had escaped capital punishment. But then he started killing people who didn't deserve it. He started killing without good reason. And so I suppose I agreed with Kira in the past, but now he seems to be spiraling. We've already determined that Kira is at least two people. And so if that is indeed the case, then I'd guess that I agree with one of the Kiras, but not the other."

"Would you join him? If you knew who he was, would you run to him and ask to serve him?"

The teen's eyes narrowed to slits. "I do not _serve_ anyone—not even Kira. And given the chance, I would not join him. Although I agree with him, I refuse to take the law into my own hands. It's wrong."

"By that logic, Kira is also wrong."

There it was—a flicker of conflict. _That_ was what he wanted to encourage. L wanted to confuse Light, make him understand that he was the student, and L was the master. "I…" Light trailed off. "I don't know, I just think—"

L waved a hand. "I know what you think, Light. There is no need to say anything else about it. Instead, allow me to ask my next question. Do you agree with the death penalty?"

"Again? This is practically the same as your last question, and I've already told you that I agree with the death penalty so long as it is delivered humanely and with good reason!"

"I understand. This was merely a precaution, so that I would have your response caught on camera. Now, on to more important things. What…is your favorite color?"

Light blinked "My favorite…color?"

"Just answer the question, Light."

"I…I suppose that I've always enjoyed the color red. Why?"

"There is a direct correlation between color preference and personality. Knowing that you favorite color is red will help me profile you."

"Seriously?" Light snapped incredulously. "And are you going to tell me just what my favorite color means?"

"Hmm…no," L said, purposefully antagonizing the teen further. "You'll just have to wait and hear the end result of my examination."

"Fine," Light grumbled. "Just get on with it."

"Very well. Will you please tell me about yourself?"

"Why?"

"Don't be difficult. Just start talking, and I'll tell you when I've heard enough."

Light, seeming vaguely uncomfortable, agreed with a slow nod. "Fine…well, you already know my name. I was born here, and I've never really been away from home. My sister, Sayu, is in elementary school. She has a bubbly personality, and she's probably the most innocent person I've ever met. My mother stays at home. My father is the chief of the NPA. He…he's not home much, so I normally take care of all the stuff around the house that he would normally be doing. When a window cracks, or a pipe breaks, or the electricity goes out, I'm normally the one that takes care of it. As a result, I've learned much about maintaining a house."

"Are you upset that your father leaves you on your own so often?"

"I'm not pleased about it, but I'm not so upset that if affects my day-to-day life. If you're looking for some deep-seeded childhood trauma, then I'm sorry, but you're not going to find anything."

"What about school? How do you feel about school?"

Light's lip curled. "School. As ifthat accursed place _ever_ provided me with any sort of challenge or entertainment. I've already told you that I despise that place. My entire life, there was nothing but boredom, boredom, boredom…always the same, day in and day out. I aced every test, passed every class, became wildly popular—so why was it so hard to find anyone to talk to? They all thought I was perfect. They always tried to get so close, but they had no idea how to talk to me. It was _miserable,_ Ryuzaki. I kept thinking that it would get better, but it never did. The classes increased in difficulty, but my abilities were always leaps and bounds ahead of my classmates'. Did you know that my teachers wanted to move me ahead several grades? I would already be out of college if I'd gotten what I wanted. But when my teachers asked to move me, my parents refused. They wanted me to have a normal life, and they didn't want to move me away from my friends. I tried to tell them that I had no friends, and that I didn't want normality—but they didn't listen. Sayu had just been born, and all of their focus was on her."

A possible source of discontent? Something that could explain Light's current actions as Kira? "Are you unhappy?"

Another brief flicker of conflict. "I suppose I was, not too long ago. But it's too late to change anything now. It's not like I can just turn back time and skip those grades. It's not like I can fix everything. So yes, I was angry. But now it's too late to right those wrongs, and so I've moved on. I've put all that behind me."

L hummed, dissatisfied with Light's answer. He'd been hoping that the teen would lead him to some great revelation in which he found irrefutable proof that Light was Kira. Unfortunately, it seemed that he was back to square one. "Talk about it more."

"Like I said, school is—"

"Not school, Light. Tell me about what you like. What are your hobbies? What do you like to eat? What do you like to read?"

Light snorted, "What is this, a first date?" But still, he complied. "Let's see…I don't have many hobbies, I suppose. I mainly stick to studying for tests that I already know I'm going to ace."

"Don't you think that's a bit sad?"

He glared. "It is not sad! It is perfectly normal, and…" He paused. He winced. "Okay…maybe it's a little sad. But honestly, what am I supposed to do? Nothing interests me. The best I can do is read. Tell me, have you ever heard of Mary Roach?"

"I have. Is she your favorite author?"

"I wouldn't say favorite, but she's definitely someone whose writing I enjoy."

"Surely you understand that your choice of reading material greatly influences what I think of you."

"I do. What's your point?"

L dug his fingers into his jeans irritably. "My point is that you have just told me that you enjoy reading the works of someone who takes an extreme interest in the dead. Don't you think your preferences are a bit morbid? I can hardly say that reading a book entitled _The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers_ helps prove that you're completely uninterested in the concept of killing other humans."

Light's bow creased as he argued, "That book isn't the only thing she's written, you know. When I said I liked her work, I was referring to _Packing for Mars._ That hardly fits me into the profile of a sociopathic killer."

"No, not so much sociopathic…I think _psychotic_ fits a bit better."

"If that's supposed to offend me, then you've failed—because _I'm not Kira."_

L feigned an uninterested shrug. "We'll see. Next question: have you ever seen an action movie?"

"W-what? Are you seriously asking—?"

"Since you haven't yet denied it, I'll assume the answer is yes. So then, have you ever seen an action movie in which someone takes a bullet for someone else?"

"Well of course, it's a common concept. Even if one character isn't literally taking a bullet, they're sacrificing themselves for their friends in one way or another." The teen appeared calm, but the tenseness around his eyes gave him away. He wasn't sure where L was going with his interrogation, and it was making him nervous.

"Let's narrow it down to a specific scenario. Say there are two people—a male and a female—facing down the antagonists. If we hold to the stereotype, then the female is disarmed and held at gunpoint, at which point the male drops his weapon to save her. Next, there would be a rather dramatic show of bravado on the behalf of the villain. Then, finally, the villain would shoot—but true to character, the male would valiantly throw himself in front of the bullet, saving the female's life and keeping her safe just long enough for her to retaliate and kill the villain." L raised a finger as if reciting something for a teacher. "After that there would be a tearful scene between the two protagonists, a brief move to the hospital, and then everything would turn out okay. A happy ending, no?"

"Yes, but what's the point?"

"The _point,_ Light, is this—if you were in the same situation as the male, and a very close friend of yours was in the same situation as the female, what would you do?"

"If you're asking if I'd jump in front of the bullet, then the answer is no."

How cruel of him. Was this yet another sign that he was Kira? After all, such cruelty fit Kira's personality perfectly. But still, there were plenty of people who would refuse to jump in front of a bullet. "Most people would say they'd sacrifice themselves."

"Most of them are lying," Light snorted. "They act brave in front of their friends, but if they were really put in that situation, I can guarantee you that most people would run."

"So you're calling yourself a coward, then?"

"No!" Light snapped furiously. "I'm not a coward!"

"Then what's your reason? If not cowardice, then what would stop you from sacrificing yourself? It's what a good friend does, isn't it?"

"Well, it doesn't help that I don't have any friends that I care enough about to save at my expense."

Another sign of his true identity. Kira would, according to L's observation, feel that he was better than all others, and refuse to become close to anyone. He would think he was God's gift to humanity.

Light continued, "Other than that, my reasoning is quite simple." He smiled, though it was slightly strained. "The way I see it, if I have time to jump in front of a bullet, then you have time to move."

This time, L couldn't hide his smile. "That's…quite an interesting take on things, Light. Although, I wouldn't want to be in such a position with you if I knew that you would just let me die."

Light shrugged. "You're smart enough to get out of it. If someone had you at gunpoint, you'd have some brilliant way of ducking your own death. And if you absolutely couldn't avoid getting shot, then you'd turn so the bullet hit you in a place that gave you the greatest chance of survival—and if you maneuvered so you landed in a specific way, then you could slow blood loss and extend your life long enough for help to come."

That silly little smile still hadn't left L's face. It seemed stuck there, unwilling to fade in the face of Light's wit. "You're right, of course." L pushed himself up and off the chair, standing in his signature slouch and turning to face the wall. "You're quite puzzling, you know. With ever word you say, I grow more certain that you are Kira. You are the only person I've spoken to that has the intellectual capacity necessary to do what Kira has done so far. The references from The Scarlet Letter, the elusive nature of his killings…it's all quite ingenious. It's all quite like you."

The teen scoffed, "I'm not the only genius on the planet, Ryuzaki. There are other people who are smart enough to put together a simple acrostic message. I will certainly agree that the guilty party's IQ must be quite high, but that doesn't mean that I'm your guy."

"No, it doesn't," L agreed. "That's the problem."

"I mean, did you even investigate one other person?" Light questioned. "It seems like you just latched on to the first person who could _possibly_ be Kira—and that person just so happened to be me. I would be willing to bet that you didn't investigate a single other person."

L bristled. Light was right, of course—at first he'd intended to investigate the top students in Japan until he found someone who perfectly fit Kira's profile, but after he'd met Light, everything just…stopped. L hated relying on gut feeling, but just this once, he thought it could be excused. There was something about Light, something sinister…and L _knew_ that he had to be Kira. To L, this was such a certainty that he knew investigating other people would be pointless. "You are correct. I did not investigate other people because I am fairly certain that I am right in suspecting you."

Light opened his mouth, clearly about to snap at L, but the detective cut him off before he had a chance.

"Why do you go to the forest?"

"What? You seriously expect me to ignore the fact that you just—"

"Please answer the question."

The teen glared. "I told you, I go to the forest to escape everything. You're a genius; I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from. After a while, I feel mentally drained, and I need to get out for a while."

"Most people would go out with friends, not seclude themselves in some random corner of a forest."

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have an abundance of real friends. I prefer solitude, when I can get it without appearing odd."

"Ah, yes," L murmured. "Appearing normal is important to you, isn't it? You're all about your image. How boring."

"And what would you have me do?" Light demanded. "Throw all caution to the wind and end up looking like _you?"_

"Is there something wrong with the way I look?" L immediately molded his features into an almost dejected look.

Light's irritated expression melted slightly. "I mean, you're not exactly prince charming."

"And I suppose you are?"

"Of course I am," the teen said, tossing his hair arrogantly. "Haven't you noticed? People _swarm_ to me in droves."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure that you simply adore all the attention from the females who attend your school."

A strange expression flickered across Light's face. He paused. "Yeah…" he muttered finally. "Of course I do."

L's brow furrowed as he observed the teen's strange reaction to his words. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. Just…get on with it, okay? Ask another question."

For a long moment, L said nothing. Light's reaction had made him curious—and when L was curious, he _always_ found out what he wanted to know. "Tell me, Light, is there anyone that you've become close to?"

He blinked, appearing confused. "Well, I suppose I'm close to my family. Other than that, there's no one I hang around enough to become close to."

"So you don't have a girlfriend? I'd assume that someone like you, what with your _perfect_ hair and _stunning_ looks, would have girls throwing themselves at you from miles around."

The teen didn't seem to appreciate L's dry sarcasm. "No, Ryuzaki, I do not have a girlfriend. I am not interested in such things."

"Not interested? But Light, it's unhealthy for a teenage boy to completely seclude himself from all physical contact. Surely you have had at least _one_ girlfriend. Or perhaps a boyfr—?"

"Ryuzaki!" Light snapped furiously. "This is uncalled for! I have never had a girlfriend!"

"But what about—?"

"I said _no,_ damn it! I am not interested in romantic endeavors!"

L felt a tiny prick of disappointment in his chest. He then promptly spent the next thirty seconds denying that he'd felt it. "That's a shame."

"A shame?" Light asked, sounding alarmed. "Just what do you—?"

"Forget I said anything," L said blandly, cursing himself for the momentary lapse of reason. "Let's move on, shall we?"

†††

A grueling four hours later, L led an exhausted Light Yagami from the interrogation room. The teen had been beaten into submission by the end of the session, seemingly having lost the energy to argue around the second hour of being brutally questioned. L, on the other hand, was in an excellent mood. He now had a fairly concrete profile of his suspect, and was even more certain that he'd found Kira. However, certain things just didn't add up. For example, although Light fit the profile in almost every way, there remained the fact that he seemed adamantly against harming innocents. If he was Kira, then just as the story dictated, he should be completely willing to murder ordinary citizens in the name of justice. However, Light didn't seem okay with simply offing anyone and everyone. _He just hasn't cracked yet,_ L convinced himself. _In the story, he didn't really start to lose it until I cracked him wide open by challenging him via televised confrontation. After he figured out that I was going to do everything in my power to bring him down, he immediately started doing whatever it took to preserve himself. He was completely prepared to kill me. That's all it is—he just hasn't cracked yet. Once he does, he'll have no problem doing anything he needs to do in order to preserve himself._ …Which just brought him back to the concept of doing something drastic to force Kira to show himself.

"Stop thinking," Light murmured suddenly, shoulders hunched in a very L-like manner.

L's brow crinkled. "I'm afraid that I do not understand your request."

"You're thinking," the teen asserted. "It's loud. Stop it."

L fought back a smile; refused to acknowledge the swell of amusement and warmth in his chest. "Right away."

Light didn't respond, nor did he even spare a glance for the detective walking beside him. His movements were slow and drawn out, limbs visibly heavy with exhaustion. He'd been practically falling asleep by the end of the interrogation. Even though L hadn't laid a hand on him, the mental exhaustion from hours of fierce questioning seemed to be too much for the teen to take. "It's barely three o'clock, you know," L pointed out. "Are you really going to retire so soon?"

Light's eyes flared with defiance. "No, I'm fine. Really. In fact, if you wanted to continue profiling me, then—"

L waved a hand, cutting him off. "I think I've heard enough for today. I will document what I've discovered and review the footage with the task force when they arrive tonight. Then, together, we will determine whether or not I have the right to detain you further."

"Yeah, right. No matter what they say, you've already made up their mind. You even told them that you were going to hold me indefinitely."

"To be fair, I worded it a bit differently than that."

The teen snorted, "I'm sure you did, genius. You may be socially inept, but you certainly know how to weave your little web of words."

"You've figured me out," L responded flatly. He stopped at the door to the room he forced Light to share with him, reaching out and pushing his way into the bedroom. Light followed close behind, eyes half-lidded. He obviously hadn't slept well the previous night.

"So what now?" Light asked with a yawn. "Are you going to subject me to a torturous game of chess? Or is it going convince me to do something equally horrible?"

L motioned vaguely towards the bed. "Unfortunately, I have a few things to attend to. You will wait here."

"Tied to the bed?" the teen asked forlornly. He shuffled his feet reluctantly, eyeing the bed.

"Tied to the bed," L confirmed. "Don't worry, Light, it's only until tomorrow. After that, you'll have a nice cell to call your own—assuming that those twenty-four criminals die, of course." And he knew that they would die in a matter of hours.

Light sat on the edge of the bed, scowling as he scooted back until his back was pressed against the headboard. "Can I at least sit up this time?"

"If you wish."

It was fast. A few heartbeats, four snaps of steel, and Light was rendered helpless. L turned, almost about to leave—but then something caught his eye. A glimmer on the shelf of books he'd brought to the penthouse. A familiar title, a familiar author. He almost grinned, but contained himself at the last possible moment. Careful not to look at Light, he slunk over to the shelf and snatched the book up between to fingers. He paused. Then, in a snap of movement, he flung the book at his captive.

There was a soft thud, then a decisive, "Hey!" Then came the shuffle of pages, and a brief moment of silence. "Ryuzaki…?"

"Entertainment, Light. You know, for when I'm gone."

The teen was silent for a moment longer. More pages turned. Then that silence was back, and L knew the exact moment when Light figured out his play. "Ryuzaki!" the teen hissed furiously. "Is this—?"

"I thought you liked Mary Roach, Light," L remarked innocently.

"But this is—!"

"I know what it is. Read it while I'm gone; you may find yourself more entertained than you think." L fled for the door, more than pleased with himself.

"This is that book about cadavers!" Light yelled after him. "Didn't you say that me having read this book made me more likely to be a mass murderer? Why the hell do you have it, then? Explain, Ryuzaki!"

"I said it made _you_ more likely to be Kira, Light," L corrected smugly. "Some of us know how to read violent books without mimicking the characters' actions. You should give it a try some time."

"Ryuzaki!" Light snarled, sitting up in bed, straining against the chains. L barely had the chance to see the teen's arm drawing back before the book was being thrown in his direction in a blur. Fortunately for the detective, he chose that moment to depart, slamming the door just in time to catch the book-turned-projectile. "Get back in here!" Light screamed behind the door. "Explain this, you bastard!"

L chuckled to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as he began to head back down the hallway. Light was such a fascinating creature.

†††

Miles away, a landing strip stretched over the Japanese landscape.

There was nothing particularly special about it—in fact, it was run down and decrepit, weeds sprouting from hairline cracks in the asphalt. Even the paint, streaked in a dashed line down the gray material, had faded with time. Surrounded by grass, streaked with dust, split open with vein-like cracks—it felt almost lost in time, as if it belonged on some strange incarnation of an American farm rather than in the middle of Japan. However, the run down nature of the area wasn't without reason. It was privately owned, kept under the care of a small company who used it to import their products. But with at the right price, it could be rented out for… _other_ purposes.

Today, it would serve one of those other purposes.

It was heard before it was seen. Roaring engines split the sky down the center, the stench of exhaust clouded the thickening air, metallic shrieks tore through the peace like a cat's claws taken to a sheet of tissue paper. And then it appeared—just an ordinary plane, carrying what was without a doubt the most dangerous cargo in the world. In the universe, even.

Wheels touched down. The plane, just as old as the runway itself, whined in protest as it was brought to a slow halt, the engines puffing tiredly in their newfound rest. And then, slowly, the plane ceased its crawl down the runway. The entire structure let out a hiss, and it almost seemed to relax as the power leaked out of it. A sharp shriek split the air once more, and a ramp struck the asphalt, showing the outside world a dark pit where the entrance to the plane should have been.

There was a long period of silence in which the world itself seemed to hold its breath, feeling the arrival of a weapon with the ability to destroy everything it was unleashed upon. And sure enough, from the darkened maw of the plane, it arrived.

Boots appeared at the lip of the ramp. "Oh…" A soft sigh sounded. Boots gave way to black leggings, the darkness soon giving forth a loose white shirt hanging slightly off a pair of petite shoulders. Blonde hair glittered in the dull sunlight for an instant before clouds swallowed even that, bathing the runway in a gray, cloudy hue. Thin fingers reached up, removing a pair of dark sunglasses from deep hazel eyes. For a moment, there was a period of well-deserved silence. Then that sigh sounded again, accompanied by a small smile. "We made it! Oh, I was so worried we would _die_ in that bucket of bolts!" The sunglasses were tucked into a purse, which was thrown over a shoulder. "It's _cold_ here! I should have brought a jacket." Boots clicked as they descended the ramp.

"What did you expect?" a second voice sounded from the mouth of the plane. "It is approaching winter."

"Yeah, but still…" The voice trailed off, and the girl, now at the foot of the ramp, turned to face the source of the second voice. "I want to go inside. Come on, let's go."

"As you wish." A sharp whoosh filled the air momentarily, and large white wings sliced the air cleanly as an inhuman figure emerged.

The girl at the foot of the ramp turned away and crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly in an attempt to assuage the cold. "I wish we didn't have to take that piece of junk all the way here!" she complained. "Why couldn't we have just taken a normal airline?"

The other figure beat its wings, drifting down to hover beside their companion. "I already explained that this is safer."

"Safer? Yeah, right!"

"There is a good possibility, what with your recent actions, that the authorities will be looking for you."

"Not for _me_ specifically," the girl corrected in a huff. "They don't know who I am. No one suspects me."

"That may very well change if you become careless, little one. Some very powerful people are out to capture Kira, and I do not wish for you to become caught up in the crossfire."

The girl waved a hand carelessly. "I'm not going to be caught in the crossfire. I'm not an idiot, you know. I've managed to take care of myself thus far, and I don't intend for that to change now."

"I understand your position, but it would still be best if you found Kira immediately. He will be able to help you."

The clacking caused by the boots paused momentarily, and a pensive, thoughtful expression found the face of the girl. "Yes…I know. But until then I'm on my own, right?"

"Not entirely. Remember, little one, you have me on your side. I will protect you."

The girl's pensive expression remained for only a heartbeat longer before being replaced by a pleased grin. "Of course! Don't think I'd forgotten about you, Rem." She continued forward, adding a noticeable bounce to her step. "I was just weighing my odds. If I want a good chance at succeeding, I'll have to track down Kira swiftly. Two heads are better than one, after all."

The creature—Rem—dipped her head, but offered no response.

The girl turned away, the smile dropping off her face the moment she knew Rem couldn't see her. "I know you think I'm vulnerable on my own," she said softly, all pretenses of lightheartedness gone. "But I'm no fool. After my parents were murdered, I had to figure out how to survive on my own. And now, even with all my friends back in America instead of here with me, I _will_ survive. With this, I can do anything." Her fingers brushed her purse delicately, dipping momentarily inside. "I've already begun following in Kira's footsteps. If I stay on this path, then I will soon achieve what I came here to do. I will find Kira. I will join him. I will help him."

Rem studied her carefully. "If this is what you truly want, then I will not stand in your way."

"I know." The clacking of the boots continued. "And as a matter of fact, I already have a plan to achieve what I want. Rem…did you know that I have an old friend here in Japan?"

"I did not."

"She's very into the occult, you know."

Rem was silent.

"You don't understand yet. But you will!" The girl reached again into her purse, removing a blank tape. "Just you watch, Rem—it will all come together soon!" She glanced back at her companion, putting on an overly cheerful grin, forcing a bright twinkle to appear in her eyes. "I promise!"


	16. Ehwaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tired...so very tired... I just got back from an anime convention where I walked around in full cosplay for the entire day, so I'm dead. So dead. So if this chapter seems a big rougher around the edges than usual, I'm sorry...I just really don't have the energy to edit it as thoroughly as usual. Despite the sloppy editing, though, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks for the support!

Misa Amane had just entered a very dangerous game. Or more appropriately, she had entered the game several weeks ago when a thin black notebook dropped down in front of her, landing with a soft thud on her bedspread. She'd been alarmed, of course. Who wouldn't have been, after having a strange object fall from nowhere to rest beside you? But that alarm had worn off in moments, and soon Misa figured out that what she held in her hands was no ordinary notebook—and by extension, she had become no ordinary human being.

"It is yours," Rem had told her. "Gelus died for you, and so now that notebook belongs to you. Do with it what you will."

And she had. Misa took the notebook in hand, studied each rule carefully, and decided to do something. She decided to _act._ She wasn't blind to the stories circulating on the internet—stories of a mysterious murderer who picked off criminals one by one. Had she been younger she would have written it all off as a joke. But now, after seeing the things she had, after hearing that her parents' murderer had met a mysterious end…she knew it was no coincidence. This murderer…Kira…was real.

Misa would find him.

She would do whatever it took, short of sacrificing her own life. She wanted to find Kira, yes, but she would not waste her existence finding him. No…she would be careful. She would take every precaution. As Rem had reminded her countless times, there was a strong possibility that the authorities were already on Kira's tail. He was a genius—of that there was no doubt—but there were whispers in that shadows, whispers that L was on the case. Whispers that in time, the great detective would bring Kira down. Whispers that the murderer's downfall had already begun.

If it was true, then Kira could already be in danger. L had a reputation for being crafty, after all, and he'd never failed to solve a case. He _would_ solve this one.

Solve it…unless Misa took the initiative and killed him first. That was why she was in Japan. She was supposed to arrive a few weeks ago, but an incident with one of her old friends had stopped her from leaving on schedule. It was a lucky happenstance, seeing as shortly after she delayed her trip, it came to her attention that if L was out to find Kira, it was best for her to play it safe and leave no record of her entering Japan. She would have to show herself eventually, of course. But for now, she needed an advantage. And that advantage, she told herself, would stem from her seamless infiltration right into the heart of enemy territory.

A soft rustling tore Misa from her thoughts, and the next moment a vaguely feminine voice was saying, "Misa, we are not safe here. We need to move."

The model didn't respond for a long moment. The Death Note, spread out before her, stared up as if in a challenge. _You've made it to Japan,_ it whispered. _Bravo. But what will you do now, Amane? One wrong move will see you executed._ "I told you," she chirped, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up on the rickety desk she was seated at. "I have a plan. I'm just working out the details."

Behind her, Rem flapped her wings irritably, but made no further comment. Misa spared her not even a glance. Instead, she locked her eyes on the pages of the Death Note. There were thousands of names written in an unfamiliar scrawl—no doubt the work of Gelus. And then, after that, there resided a neat and tidy list of several dozen names, carved out in Misa's bubbly handwriting. She had been killing criminals since she received the notebook, but her list could hardly compare to Kira's. She hoped to rectify the situation as soon as possible by writing as many names as she could.

"Rem."

The shinigami raised her head. "Yes, Misa?"

"Something is wrong."

Rem immediately appeared aggravated. "What is it? Do you need me to do something?"

The model shook her head slowly. "No. It's nothing you can fix." She brought her feet clattering to the ground, the thick soles of her leather boots absorbing the shock waves. She reached out to the laptop, resting just beyond the Death Note, and ran a finger across the track pad to awaken it. Displayed there was the chart Misa had been keeping since she began killing. It had been a last minute idea—a brief spark of intuition that led to a panic-induced fit of research—but now here it was. Upon it there were three categories: group X, group Y, and group Z. Under each group, on each corresponding line, there was a four-digit code that seemed random unless you knew that each one corresponded to a name that had been written in the Death Note. Misa was the only one who knew the codes, and the only one who knew which names each code represented. At the end of each day, Misa would sit down and collect a list of all criminals that had been reported dead of a heart attack that day. They she would sort them into categories, give them a code, and close out the password-protected chart.

Each category had its own purpose. Group X was where Misa put all the criminals that she killed personally. Group Y was where she put the criminals that had died of a heart attack, but were awaiting the death penalty. Group Z was where she put the criminals that had died of heart attacks but had not deserved their punishment. She had kept this list meticulously, every day, for weeks. And now, after so much work, it was paying off.

"The pattern changed, Rem."

"Pattern?"

"There was a pattern. It wasn't definite, but it was there. About fifty criminals were dying each day, not including the ten or so that died daily that didn't deserve it. It was consistent. But now, something is different. There are far less criminals dying than before."

"What does it mean?"

"It means that something has happened to Kira." Misa closed the chart and shut the lid of the laptop. "I don't think he's dead. If he were dead, then I just _know_ I would be able to tell. But I believe he's gotten himself into a situation that is not easy to escape from. He's been detained in such a way that he cannot commit his murders efficiently. It's the only explanation—and if I'm right, then I'll have to move faster than I thought."

"Who would have detained him, Misa? I thought you said he was a genius; how could he have been caught so swiftly?"

"Not caught," she corrected softly, digging her fingers into the soft material of her skirt. "Under suspicion. Enough so that he cannot kill as much as he used to. It is highly likely that L has already begun to move in on him. And if that is the case, then he surely will have noticed the discrepancy in the murders. He won't think it's a coincidence that the killings have slowed."

Wings shifted audibly. "What will you do? If Kira has already been apprehended—"

Misa cut her off, not bothering to reiterate the fact that if Kira had truly been apprehended, all murders would have most likely stopped. "If L is closing in, then we must act swiftly. We must act _now._ " She motioned to her bag, announcing, "I have already prepared the tapes. All I need is a little help with the audio from my friend, and I'll be ready to send them in to the broadcasting station. If I do this and prove that Kira isn't the person under L's watch, then Kira will be cleared of all suspicion. After all, there's no way he could have sent in these tapes while under L's watchful gaze. After that, it will be a simple matter of contacting Kira so that we can work together."

"And you are positive that Kira will not kill you once he learns who you are?"

"That's where you come in, Rem. If Kira threatens to kill me, you'll just threaten to kill _him_ , and everything will be resolved." Misa leaned back, satisfied, crossing her arms behind her head. "Besides, if I'm right, then Kira will need my help. If he's proved anything, it's that he needs someone for times like this." Misa reached out and turned on the TV, picking up a pen and turning her gaze on the Death Note.

"Misa, what are you doing?"

"I'm killing criminals, of course! L has already noticed the disruption in the pattern, I'm sure. But I can take a bit of heat off Kira if I start offing enough criminals to close the gap. It'll look like Kira just took a little break, that's all." _Or at least, that's the theory._

"Didn't you want to see if your friend—?"

"As soon as I finish up with this. If I want to help Kira, then I need to make myself useful by making it look like he's still in action." She turned her head just enough to offer Rem a very fake, very bright smile. "Don't worry, Rem! Everything is going to turn out fine."

The shinigami turned away, only observing the falsity that was Misa's smile for a moment. "If this is what you wish, Misa."

"I know, I know!" The model turned back to her notebook. "If this is what I wish, then you're with me all the way."

†††

At noon the following day, Light was jolted out of a mindless haze by the sharp ringing of a cell phone. His eyes rose to locate the source of the noise, and, unsurprisingly, he found himself staring directly at Ryuzaki. The detective was sitting at his computer chair in the main room of the penthouse, the cell phone resting beside him.

Ryuzaki was still for a long moment. Then, slowly, two fingers reached out and grabbed the device, holding it up to prying eyes. He let out a small hum of irritation over the low keen of the ringtone before holding it out to Light. The teen shot him a questioning look, and L answered it with three simple words. "It's your father."

Light felt a twinge of irritation as he grasped at the device, holding it up to his ear and answering with the touch of a button. "Hello?"

_"Light,"_ came the immediate response.

"Father," the teen sighed. "I see you've finally taken advantage of your privilege of calling me whenever you like." Inwardly, Light cursed his father for interrupting his rest. He hadn't been asleep, not quite—but he had been nearing that pleasant limbo in between the reality of the waking world and the haze of sleep. He would normally have forced himself awake while in the presence of others (even if _others_ applied only to the gangly detective working beside him) but he'd had a rough time sleeping the previous night. It seemed that some variation of a nightmare woke him every ten minutes, sending his eyes skittering frantically in search of an assailant that was not there. But even moments after awakening, he could never remember just what—or who—was attempting to hurt him. He had no clear memories, no clear images—only vague feelings and impressions.

_"I wanted to check up on you, Light. And I think you deserve to know a little about what I've told your mother and sister about your disappearance as well. I didn't think it could wait until I came in for work tonight."_

"You're not coming in for work, father," Light reminded the man. He felt bad; the man was obviously exhausted. "Today is an off day while Ryuzaki moves into the new headquarters." The elephant in the room remained unspoken of. Neither one of them wanted to mention the fact that just as L had said, those twenty-five criminals had perished the day before. L hadn't yet spoken to the task force in person about it, but he'd at least made a phone call to the task force to inform them of the new development. Now, as unfortunate as it was, he had cause to detain Light for as long as he liked.

_"Ah…yes. Forgive me. I appear to be a bit on edge."_

"We all are," Light responded softly, finding his eyes drawn once again to Ryuzaki. The detective pretended not to notice, having the appearance of being glued to his monitor. "But that's beside the point. Tell me about mother and Sayu."

_"I had to lie to them, obviously. I…I told them that you'd been called last minute on an internship to America in preparation to join the NPA. It didn't go over very well. Your mother is upset; she thinks that you should have stopped to say goodbye before you left. And what's more, she's suspicious that I'm hiding something. After all, what kind of child ups and leaves for a different country without packing, saying goodbye, or doing_ anything _in preparation for departure? She's asking questions, and I can't give her answers."_

Light gave a slow nod. Then, realizing his father couldn't see him, he said, "There was nothing else you could have done but lie. And no matter what you said, no explanation would have been good enough for either of them. Mother in particular will always ask questions and attempt to uproot the answers."

_"This lie isn't going to hold. I'll have to tell her something with substance soon."_

"Talk to Ryuzaki about it tomorrow," Light advised. "He can give you a better lie, or find a way to ease her concern."

_"I hope you're right."_

"And what of Sayu?"

_"She misses her brother, as any good little sister would. She's confused, but not nearly as prying as Sachiko."_

Light let out a tiny sigh. There weren't many people he truly cared about, but of the lot of them, Sayu took top priority. If she was safe, then all else could wait. "Tell her hello, okay? And tell her I miss her very much."

_"I will. But Light...how are_ you _doing? When we all came for work yesterday, we didn't see you. When we asked L he just said that you were sleeping, but I wasn't sure."_

"I'm fine, I swear. I really was sleeping when you were working. It was kind of a long day."

Soichiro caught the pause, and evidently equated it with his suspicions about Ryuzaki's actions. _"If he's hurt you in any way, then I insist that you tell me! I will not allow him to harm you on his sick quest to prove you guilty!"_

"Father, please! Ryuzaki has been completely hospitable." Excluding, of course, the relentless questioning, the ceaseless glaring, and that _infuriating_ look the detective was currently giving him—a look that was completely unreadable and completely frustrating. "You shouldn't say such things about him when you barely know him."

_"…Even if you're right, son, I still don't trust the man. He's careless with human life. From what I know of him, he's committed murder before, and he won't hesitate to do so again if he thinks it will further his cause."_

Light swallowed hard, silently admitting that Soichiro's fears weren't exactly unprecedented. But he could never allow his father to know that he suspected that he was correct. And so, keeping the most level tone he could manage, he murmured, "I swear to you, you have nothing to worry about. And if, by any chance, something happens, I will inform you immediately."

Soichiro paused for a long moment, and it was clear that he was hesitant to hang up. But still, he seemed to realize that he had nothing else to say to say. _"Well…I suppose that's all I have to tell you. I should let you get back to…to whatever you were doing before I called."_

"That would be best, yes."

_"Light…just what were you doing before I called?"_

More suspicion. "I was resting. Ryuzaki is working right now, and there's not much for me to do."

" _I see."_ He paused again.

Light allowed a small smile at his father's reluctance to let him go. "Goodbye, father."

_"Right…goodbye, Light."_

There was a small click, and the line went dead. Light immediately raised his eyes to Ryuzaki, who was still refusing to look at him. "Well," he said, "that was a tremendous waste of time."

Ryuzaki still refused to turn his head. "It's a lucky thing I decided to allow you to remain in the main room today. If I had not, then I would have had to walk all the way to the bedroom in order to give you the phone. It would have been most inconvenient."

"Of course it would have," Light replied jokingly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your work, even for that."

"Well, you're interrupting it now."

Light frowned. Ryuzaki seemed especially on edge today. It most likely had something to do with the move to the new headquarters, which was largely being handled by Watari. The inventor had been in and out all day, transporting the various computers and other such devices to the new building piece by piece. Meanwhile, Ryuzaki remained in the living room with his singular laptop, researching some various aspect of the Kira Case. Light had no idea what he was researching specifically—he'd largely spent the day with his head on the desk beside Ryuzaki's laptop, dozing lightly. Surprisingly, Ryuzaki hadn't bothered him once the entire day. Granted, the day so far had been only five or so hours, but it was still an impressive accomplishment.

"What are you researching?" Light questioned, ignoring the detective's earlier comment.

"That's classified information, especially to my main suspect."

Light groaned, "Of course it is. I should have known." He looked away from Ryuzaki, letting his eyes roam the room. Most of Ryuzaki's things had ben moved out, leaving only the impersonal pieces of furniture provided by the hotel. It seemed almost strange. Although Light had only spent about four days in the hotel, it had already become very familiar to him. The thought of leaving it for a new place where, as Ryuzaki promised, he would be shoved into a cell, wasn't appealing in the least.

"You are close to your sister," Ryuzaki said without warning. His fingers hadn't paused on the keys.

"Yeah," Light said cautiously. "Most people are protective of their little sisters, you know."

Ryuzaki, still staring at the computer screen, stopped typing. In fact, he stopped moving altogether. "No, I wouldn't know."

"You don't have—?"

Ryuzaki cut him off. "You wanted to know what I was researching?"

"Well, yes, but you told me that—"

Again, he cut him off. "I am researching the number of murders committed by Kira in the past forty-eight hours. I've found something rather interesting, actually." He pointed at the screen, and for the first time since before the phone call, he turned his gaze on the teen beside him. His eyes were dark, emotionless. Unreadable. "Look, Light."

He did. The teen craned his neck, squinting at the dimly lit chart displayed on the screen of the laptop. A deep pit opened in his chest as he observed the numbers. It appeared that the other Kira, whoever he was, hadn't been able to serve his purpose. Instead of keeping up the number of murders like Light had hoped, this second Kira had sat back and continued as normal. He was disappointed; he'd thought that the second Kira was an intelligent person. Any intelligent person would have been keeping careful track of the amount of murders and, when they noticed that the number had decreased, they would have killed more in order to keep the number consistent. Anyone with brains should have figured out that the other Kira—i.e. Light—had been detained, and needed help maintaining the current amount of deaths as not to look suspicious in the eyes of whoever had detained him. But this person, whoever they were, had not done this. He was obviously an idiot, someone Light could not depend upon. How disappointing.

"I'm sure you've noticed it too," Ryuzaki drawled. "Before you were captured, there were about fifty people being murdered each and every day. Sometimes the number dipped slightly above or below, but it was mostly consistent. However, the day of your capture, this number dropped."

Of course it had. Light had written that a steady amount of criminals would die each day in his Death Note, and had planned ahead well into the future. However, with the limited time he knew he had when he began writing names in advance, he hadn't been able to plan out as many deaths per day as was the norm. For example, while he used to have as many as fifty criminals dying each day, between the supervision from Ryuzaki and the limited time because of school, he'd only been able to plan out about twenty-five each day. If he'd stuck to the normal amount—fifty—then he wouldn't have been able to plan out as many days as he needed to, and instead of achieving weeks upon weeks of advanced killings, he would have made it only half that time. In fact, had he planned out fifty deaths each day, he would already be reaching the end of his pre-planned killings. He was already on the chopping block—if that were to happen, then he would be convicted for sure. And so, because of this obvious discrepancy in the amount of deaths, he'd been counting on the second Kira—the one from the notebook's tale—to pick up the slack. If she hadn't, then…

"The day of your capture, the number of killings nearly halved themselves. If there are indeed two Kiras, and you are one of them, then this halving makes perfect sense. It should be an open and shut case, in fact."

Light felt a spark of hope. The way Ryuzaki was talking…it sounded like there was a ' _but'_ coming.

"But…" Ryuzaki went on, "it's not." He reached forward, manipulating the keys of his laptop until a second chart was pulled up to rest beside the first. "This is a more recent copy of the chart. It covers the time from this time yesterday to now. Twenty-four hours. In _this_ span of twenty-four hours, the killings returned to their normal number."

The second Kira had figured it out! Light was hardly able to contain a relieved grin. Maybe this other Kira wasn't as much of an idiot as Light thought she was. She'd been late, yes, but she'd figured it out just the same. It was perfect—with this proof alone, Ryuzaki would be hard pressed to convict him. "What does it mean?" Light asked carefully, not wanting to give Ryuzaki any more ideas about the discrepancy than he already had.

The detective raised a thumb, running it across his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I have two thoughts about this, which I'm sure you've already comprehended and analyzed. First, it is possible that Kira faced some sort of outward difficulty, and was unable to continue killing at a normal rate. This was obviously what I intended to happen when I captured you. However, if you were Kira, then the killings would not have started again. The logical conclusion here is that you are not Kira."

_Yes!_ Light's heart skipped a beat.

"However, I am not convinced that this is the case."

_What? Why would he think—?_

"It is also possible that the second Kira, whom we have already discussed the existence of, has also figured out the discrepancy in the numbers, and is working to correct it. If that is the case, then the resumed rate of killings means nothing for your innocence." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a hint of irritation shining through. "Unfortunately, it also means nothing for your guilt."

"Unfortunately?" Light repeated. "That's not unfortunate, it's great news! It means you can't convict me!"

"Yes, exactly." Ryuzaki scowled. His fingers tapped on the desk in rhythm. "As you know, I think you're Kira. As a result, I want to convict you. Finding evidence such as this, which hints at neither innocence nor guilt, means nothing to me. In fact, it is rather counterproductive."

"Of course it is," Light grumbled, all joy immediately gone. "Looks like you'll have to put up with me a bit longer."

"Yes…but that I already knew." Ryuzaki reached out and closed the lid of his computer gently.

There was a sudden rustle in the doorway. "Sir?" the voice of Watari called. "Are you ready for me to pack the last of your things?"

Light guessed he meant the laptop and the stacks of files beside it.

"Yes," Ryuzaki said softly, his attention clearly lying elsewhere. "Take them, please. We will leave once you load our remaining possessions into the car."

Watari bowed his head respectfully, moving forward just long enough to pick up the laptop and the files before turning and exiting the room. "I will return shortly, sir."

Light found himself staring after the inventor as he left. The instant he was out of sight, he asked, "Hey, Ryuzaki, why does that man act as your butler?"

Ryuzaki was silent for a long moment, his fingers tracing absent mindedly across the wooden surface of the desk. "Think of him as an adoptive father."

"Adoptive?" Light echoed, surprised. "You don't have—?"

Ryuzaki glared.

"Ah…" Light said swiftly, performing damage control. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

The detective looked sharply to the far wall, offering the back of his head to his teenage companion. "I know exactly what you meant. I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise, your curiosity about me. After all, I've picked my way through most of your past, while you don't know anything about me."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to offer the information openly."

Ryuzaki turned his head just slightly, now showing Light his profile. "Decisively not. I'm afraid that my past is private."

Once again, that tiny pinprick of suspicion nibbled at the teen's heart. _Ryuzaki…everything you say…everything you do…_ He shook his head lightly, hoping the detective hadn't noticed. _Is it true? Have I found L?_ His reluctance to tell him about his past, his mysterious personality, his immense genius…it all led to him being L. But still, there wasn't enough information, not enough detail, not enough clues to lead him to a concrete conclusion. It was, he thought, the same issue Ryuzaki faced in convicting _him_. All the evidence was circumstantial.

Light looked up to find Ryuzaki staring at him again. "What?" he challenged.

The detective turned abruptly away. "Nothing."

_What's his deal?_ Light questioned irritably. _He's so strange. One moment I think we're getting along, and the next he's pushing me away._

"I'm going to catch Kira, you know."

"…What?" The teen turned to his companion, brow furrowed.

"I'm going to catch Kira. It's just a matter of time."

Was he gauging his reaction? Did he want Light to react in a way that would prove he was Kira? "I'm sure you will, Ryuzaki," Light responded, careful to hide all hints of irritation.

The detective was staring again, fixing Light with those blank, owlish eyes. "I just wanted to give you plenty of warning."

So he was attempting to aggravate him. _Nice try, Ryuzaki, but it's not going to work._ Light set his jaw and nodded shortly. "How considerate of you."

Ryuzaki stared for a moment longer, then turned to study the desk.

"You know," Light pushed, "this whole _catching Kira_ thing would be a lot easier if you would let me help instead of locking me up in a cell once we get to the new headquarters."

The detective didn't look up from the desk. His fingers had resumed their incessant tapping on the top of the desk, carving out a mind-numbing rhythm. "I can't let you help me."

"Why not? If you did, we could catch Kira ten times faster!"

The tapping continued, drilling into Light's skull as Ryuzaki observed him out of the corners of his eyes. "Because," he said simply, "it didn't work when I did it last time."

_Last…time…?_ "Ryuzaki, just what are you—?"

He looked away as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. "Ignore me, please. I misspoke."

Ryuzaki had spoken the words of reparation, but the damage had already been done. _It's very likely that he's referencing a past case he worked on in which he allowed a suspect to take up the investigation alongside him. But the way he said it…it almost sounded like he meant_ this _case, as if he's worked this case before. Or like…like he's seen how this all plays out. Like he's read it in a book._

The familiarity of that statement made Light cringe. Read it in a book…or a _note_ book. _I already know that there's a first half of the story. It has to be somewhere, so why not with him? But no, I'm jumping to conclusions! It's so unlikely that I can barely consider it! It's much more likely that Ryuzaki simply worked on another case under similar circumstances, and chose to let his suspect work with him rather than locking him up. There's no way that he was_ literally _saying that it didn't work out when he worked this specific case the first time._

_But…but if he was…it would make sense, wouldn't it? If I'm Kira in this situation, then there's a chance that Ryuzaki would be L. And knowing what I know about the story's ending, then yes, it is entirely true that letting me work with L didn't work out for him. After all, L isn't even alive in the half of the story I've read._

Watari appeared once again in the doorway. "Sir, we are ready to go."

Ryuzaki nodded absently. "Thank you Watari. Now, if you wouldn't mind…?"

"At once."

Light vaguely heard the inventor moving, but his eyes were kept on Ryuzaki. _What do you know? Who are you?_

Then he heard Watari speak again, and he realized suddenly that he should have been paying _much_ more attention to where he was. "I apologize for this, Light."

The teen had just enough time to turn his head, his muscles tensing to leap from his chair, before he felt a sharp prick in the side of his neck. The next moment he was on his feet, despite the fact that he knew he would be collapsing any minute—and a minute after that he _was_ collapsing, his world going dark and hazy around him. Luckily for him, Ryuzaki was on his feet as well, arms extended to steady him.

"I hate you," Light breathed, though it came out far less irritated than he would have hoped.

Ryuzaki smiled. Light couldn't see it, seeing as his unresponsive form was being pressed into his companion's body like a young child, but he could certainly feel it—a chorus of microscopic tremors that shook the detective's body minutely. He smiled so rarely, it seemed, that his body was physically strained in doing so. Light smiled faintly at the thought.

"I hate you too," Ryuzaki murmured, though it was obvious that he was saying it more in endearment than anything else. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you while you're out."

The teen scowled, features twisting against the fabric of Ryuzaki's shirt. His lips parted ever so slightly, intent upon telling the detective off for knocking him out again, but by this time either his body was far too heavy or his mind far too blank—or maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying being trapped against Ryuzaki in such a way—that he could no longer speak.

Either way, it took only a moment longer for his hold on the waking world to slip away.

†††

L stared down at the form of his friend, propped up against the seat beside him in the car. It has hard to believe that this person, appearing so calm and innocent in sleep, could be a psychopathic murderer while awake. But he _was_ a murderer. L was sure of it. All he needed was one more piece of evidence, one last blow to bring the teen to his knees…

The car hit a bump, and a folder wedged itself in between L's foot and the seat on which it was perched. The detective glanced down. Ah, yes…the results from To-Oh. L had asked Watari to inquire as to whether or not Light had been accepted. Of course, he had been. It was only another tiny step towards proving Light guilty. Unfortunately, L knew he would need much more than a tiny step to prove his companion's guilt—he would need, at the very least, a massive bound forward to outmaneuver Kira. He'd hoped that by taking Light into custody, by starting the task force up early, by working faster than ever before, by knowing the story ahead of time, he would have been able to arrest Kira by now. But still, he evaded him. It was as if fate, angered by L's meddling, was attempting to right his wrongs. A sort of LeChatelier's Principle, but applied to fate rather than chemistry. In chemistry, L recalled, this particular principle stated that if one side of a chemical equation was altered, the other side would make adjustments in order to balance itself out. And in this case, L had a similar theory. Was it possible that fate, in an attempt to balance itself, would undo anything L attempted to change? Was everything he was doing worthless?

No, no—he couldn't think like that! L had never believed in fate before, and he didn't intend to start now. Although, with the story of the Death Note spread out in front of him each night, it became harder and harder to deny that some sort of fate existed. _It doesn't matter. Even if fate does exist, and I'm being made to dance in the palm of some greater being's hand, what choice do I have? If I do nothing, then Kira will kill me. If I attempt to change 'fate,' as it were, I could very well end up dead just the same. But at least that way, if Kira kills me, I'll know I put up a fight. And if it comes down to it…_

L halted his thoughts momentarily, eyes raking over Light's inert form.

_…If it comes down to it, I will take Light with me. I am almost certain that he is Kira—and so in the end, if my best efforts aren't enough, I will make sure I am both mentally and physically prepared to do what must be done._

L reached out a hand, seemingly without reason, and brushed a finger across his companion's cheek. _So innocent…so pure…why do you have to be Kira?_ He drew back silently, shooting a nervous glance up to the front seat to see, to his relief, that Watari hadn't noticed his uncharacteristically gentle behavior. _No…it doesn't matter if I don't want him to be Kira. He_ is _Kira, and I will either be forced to kill him, lock him away, or change him. And…right now, that third option is looking pretty good._

_Change him?_ A small voice whispered in the back of L's mind. _So far, it seems like there's nothing to change. If he is Kira—and he_ is— _then he has not harmed a single person that hadn't already been charged with a death sentence._

And a larger part of his mind, the more logical part, responded, _even if he hasn't killed anyone yet, the notebook predicts that he will. The potential is within him, all it would take is a little nudge to set him off._

_The notebook could be wrong. After all, several of its predictions have been slightly off._

_The word 'slightly' being the key word. I would hardly call Kira refusing to kill innocent people a slight difference._

L's thoughts fell to a low murmur as the car drew to a halt. The drive hadn't been long, thankfully. After the experience in Chief Yagami's squad car, his stomach seemed unwilling to put up with long car rides. "Watari," he called up to the front seat, "please retrieve any remaining bags from the trunk. I will transport Light to the cell."

The inventor gave a nod of assent, turning off the car and exiting smoothly. L felt the car jolt slightly as the trunk was wrenched open, the remaining luggage swiftly disappearing from the back compartment.

L turned his gaze on his companion, who showed no signs of waking, and who should not show any such signs for several hours more. "Okay, Light," the detective murmured. "Let's introduce you to your temporary home." L took the teen into his arms, careful to keep his head well away from the car door as he slipped into the cool night air. For a moment he simply stood there, eyes raking his surroundings. The place was perfect—surrounded by a large amount of open space so that no one could sneak up and no one could spy on them without a vantage point. And during the night, when thick clouds covered even the brightest rays of the moon, it would be almost impossible to look in on their activities. The lot was almost pitch black.

"Is it to your liking?" Watari asked, appearing at L's side with two suitcases in hand.

"Hmm?" L murmured absent-mindedly. "Oh, yes…it will do." He started towards the door, ascending the shallow steps that preceded the small platform leading to the door. Light's head lolled on his shoulders with each step, and without a second thought the detective pressed the teen's cheek into the shoulder of his white shirt, keeping him from hurting his neck. L reached out a hand, and the doors—unlocked from Watari's previous visit—gave seamlessly, revealing the building's broad interior.

The first few steps inside echoed like thunderclaps. L's bare feet, no matter the effort he spent placing them softly against the tiled floor, made an ungodly amount of noise in the nearly empty entrance hall. The detective was half surprised that the unconscious teen cradled in his arms didn't awaken.

"Should I take the Yagami boy to his cell for you?" Watari asked politely.

"No," L murmured. "I would much prefer to assess his accommodations personally. I believe that I have already conveyed this sentiment to you."

There was a brief moment of silence as Watari, no doubt irritated by L's determination to remain at his suspect's side, stared blankly. Then, "As you wish. I will complete the transfer of data to the new computers." The inventor turned, and the next moment he was gone.

The instant the inventor disappeared through the door to the main investigation room, L headed for the elevator. The doors closed behind him a moment after he stepped inside, and a moment after that he was typing in the four-digit code that would grant him access to the lower levels. The elevator jolted lightly, and L's stomach pitched uncomfortably as the glorified metal box sped for the basement.

A minute later, the doors slid open and L was standing at the entrance to the detention level. He'd had this level, located below ground like a basement, constructed to resemble a jail. There were a series of cells, five in total, connected by a very narrow hallway running across the entrance to each. Every cell was built with foot-thick concrete walls, narrow sheets of steel reinforcing the structure. There were numerous security cameras located within each cell, assuring that no blind spots were available to hide within. And just for added safety, the cells were built with no windows—only a single reinforced steel door with a keypad lock. There wasn't even a slot through which to slide meals or letters from the outside (which, L knew, Light would be receiving none of). The only downside to this isolated design was the fact that should the security cameras malfunction, there would be no way to tell if the prisoner was waiting to jump whoever entered the cell. But of that there was no worry, for true to form, L had rigged the cell to fill with gas designed to render anyone within the cell unconscious. In addition, just for added measure, he'd decided equip the entire underground area with remotely activated airtight seals. If the security cameras were knocked out and he was forced to use the gas, he had the ability to securely lock down the prison cell so that none of the gas could leak out to the rest of the building.

L shifted Light's inert form over one shoulder, opening the door to the closest cell to the door. He located the cot, pressed against the back wall, and gently deposited the teen onto it. Then, as an afterthought, he rearranged Light's limbs so they weren't splayed awkwardly over the side of the cot. _He'll never know what I've already done for him,_ he thought, vaguely amused. _But maybe it's better that way._

The detective turned to leave. There were deaths to catalogue, criminals to kill, task force members to manipulate. And…of course…there were innocents that had to be killed as well. L hated that he had to keep killing them, but the task force had to believe that Kira was killing innocent people or they would hail Kira as a deliverer of justice and refuse to arrest him. He had seen it predicted in the notebook—as time went on, the members of the task force became less and less certain that they were working to deliver an evil person to justice. And that was when Kira was legitimately killing innocent people. If he were to suddenly stop, then…

L cut himself off with a shudder. _It doesn't matter_ , he told himself. _In any case, what I'm doing is for the greater good. The world has to believe that Kira is evil, because he_ is _evil. If my killing of a few hundred innocent people is all it takes to turn the world in my favor—even if it's just for a while—then I'll gladly kill them all. It's not evil—it's justice._

He would never realize just now much he sounded like Kira.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, L placed his hand on the doorknob, preparing to leave.

"Mph…Ryuzaki?"

L froze. "Light?" He wasn't supposed to be awake yet. Why was he awake? The detective waited, still facing the door, for the teen to respond—but when he didn't, L was swift in returning to the cot to stand beside him. "Light, are you—" He frowned. The teen wasn't awake. Another one of his strange dreams, then? L almost smiled at the thought.

"Hmm…" Light hummed in his sleep, turning onto his side. The sedative must have been wearing off for him to be moving in such a way. The corners of his lips curled up into a soft, small smile, and L couldn't hold off a smile of his own at the sight. Against his own intuition he lowered himself onto the bed. He sat, not in his signature crouch, but with his feet pressed firmly to the concrete floor.

He dipped his head to examine his charge's face more closely. His hand rose, almost against his will, and in a moment too swift for him to fully comprehend he was cupping the side of Light's face. "I like you better like this," he informed the teen's unconscious form. "You can't insult me." He drew his thumb across Light's cheekbone absent-mindedly. In his unconscious state there were no pesky inhibitions to get in his way—and so Light, in an action that was probably against every fiber of his waking being, gave a soft hum and leaned into the gentle touch.

L narrowed his eyes slightly, but his expression was not one of anger or irritation, but of fascination. His train of thought was taking the same route as it did every time he laid eyes upon his suspect— _how could someone who looks so sweet be so evil?_ The detective's fingers traced down Light's jaw and settled on his neck, feeling the pulse flutter beneath his fingertips. So fragile…so _breakable._

"You do," L breathed, "know what's going to happen to you if you won't confess to being Kira?"

The teen, as expected, had no response. His head tilted slightly to the side, swayed by L's fingers at his neck.

"I'll find a way to get to you," the detective warned. "I _know_ you are Kira. _You_ know you are Kira. All that remains is the confession, and our tragic little tale will carry itself out. I will force you to talk. You have a weak point, I'm sure of it. Is it your friends at school? Your family? Your _sister?_ Whatever it is, it won't be long before I find it and use it to _crack you open_."

Light groaned again, no doubt a response to a sedative-induced dream. And then he rolled over suddenly, settling on his back—and L, just as suddenly, realized that he'd been far closer to his suspect than he thought he'd been when he found his lips _very_ close to Light's. He froze in place immediately, unable to breathe, unable to move. All he could do was stare at Light, who seemed, contrary to all logic, much more attractive at such a close range. He heard a tiny, choked noise, and wondered briefly what Light was dreaming of to make him produce such a noise before he realized that the noise had come from _him._

_What do I do?_ His mind hissed at him frantically.

And the response— _move, you idiot! Just lean back!_

_I don't—_

_Don't what? Just lean back, damn it!_

_But I don't want…_ L's entire body jolted as if he'd been pushed, and much to his horror—and delight—the minute distance between him and Light vanished.

_Oh my god…you're kissing him. You're_ kissing _him. Why the hell are you kissing him, you moron?_

L's muscles seemed to have locked in place. His lips were still pressed to Light's in some crude imitation of a kiss, and for a moment he found himself unable to draw away. He didn't _want_ to draw away. But a moment later it hit him, the horrifying fact that he was pressed against a mass murderer—and he pushed away violently, not caring when Light let out a tiny whimper of pain in his sleep from the harsh press to his shoulders. His fingers, so recently caressing the side of Light's face, jolted upward to cover his mouth. He felt almost sick for a moment, sick for kissing a murderer.

But no… L swallowed hard, but there was no denying the truth. He felt sick—but not because he'd kissed a murder. He felt sick because he'd _liked_ it, because he wanted to do it again. It shouldn't have been a surprise. He'd already begun to suspect that he wanted Light, wanted him in more ways than one. But to kiss him, to feel that swell of emotion firsthand…

L realized then, with a deep pang of some terrible and shapeless emotion, that he'd hoped that he had been wrong about his own feelings. But now he was certain. Now there was no doubt.

_Maybe I can use this,_ L told himself desperately. _Maybe I can do something, use my emotions as a weapon._ But no matter what spin he put on it, the facts remained the same. _I can't let it effect me,_ he told himself, though he knew that he had already been quite affected. _I will get Light Yagami to confess. Once that happens…_

He looked over at Light, still sprawled innocently across the bed. "Well…" he murmured aloud. "Let's just see what happens, shall we?"

†††

"Hey! Wake up, you dolt!"

Light groaned faintly, raising a hand to his head. _Damn…that hurts!_ His entire form pulsed with dull pain, and when he pushed himself to lean against a wall, conveniently perched behind him, the ache only intensified. Just what had happened to him, anyways? Where was he?

"Light, come on, get up!"

That voice…so familiar…so irritating. "Ryuzaki?"

"No, not quite. Just _get up."_

Not Ryuzaki? Then who…? Light forced his eyes open, blinking as the light, dull as it was, assaulted his senses. And when it finally cleared…

"Ryuk!" the teen exclaimed. Then he bit his tongue, realizing that Ryuzaki was most likely listening in, wherever he was. In his haze, he'd forgotten just what situation he was in. Hey…just what kind of situation _was_ he in? Light eyed his surroundings. Oh, so Ryuzaki had thrown him into a cell. It was a dingy little thing, he found. Oh well…at least he wasn't tied up. Ryuzaki had at least done him that courtesy.

"Good to see you again, kid. It took me a while to find you that time, eh?"

Light shot the shinigami a meaningful look, hoping to convey his inability to speak.

"Huh? What's wrong? Can't talk?"

Light dipped his head slightly, playing it off as a physical response resulting from fatigue.

"Let me guess, that L guy caught up to you."

_No…well, maybe. I haven't exactly figured out if Ryuzaki is L or not._ But with his inability to verbalize his thoughts, the best he could do was a light shrug.

"Great. Just how the hell are you supposed to find the other notebook user if you're locked up here?"

_Just give it a little time, I'm sure I can convince Ryuzaki that I'm innocent. Well…mostly sure, anyways._

"You'll have to pull off quite a feat if you want to get out. I should just kill you now, it'll be less trouble."

Light's eyes snapped to the shinigami, narrowing in anger. He longed to snap, to scream that he _would_ find a way out of this—but he couldn't, and so he was reduced to glaring furiously.

"But then again…it would probably be difficult to find someone like you to help me again. I was lucky enough the first time, you know? I needed someone intelligent _and_ with police connections _and_ with enough of a stomach to kill people. There's no way I'll be able to find someone like you again before the boss gets mad enough to take off my head. I've taken long enough as it is." The shinigami flapped his wings irritably, his twisted features twisting even further. "I _need_ that notebook, Kira."

Light hissed through his teeth, attempting to keep the shinigami from calling him by his alias. Ryuzaki shouldn't be able to see or hear Ryuk, but it was better safe than sorry.

"Seriously, Lighto, I don't see how you're going to be able to pull this off."

He was right—it would take something drastic to convince Ryuzaki of his innocence. _I need to give up the notebook. If I give it up, then I'll have no memories, and Ryuzaki will be forced to acknowledge my innocence. After I give it up, I can tell Ryuk to give it to someone else who is sure to use it like I did. That would throw Ryuzaki off my tail entirely. And after I'm released I'll surely hunt down the person Ryuk gives the notebook to, for I'll be asked to work alongside Ryuzaki simply so he can keep an eye on me. After that it will simply be a matter of reclaiming ownership before Ryuzaki gets the chance to steal it from me._ Light almost smiled at his plan—but then he groaned in frustration, for he realized that even though his plan was immaculate, he had no way to execute it. He couldn't give up the notebook. _I could just tell Ryuk that I give up the notebook, but that will look overly suspicious. If Ryuzaki really is the one with the other half of the story, then he'll know that me 'giving it up' will mean that I had a Death Note in the first place, and that I am therefore Kira. That leaves two other options, the first being that Ryuk realizes what I need to do and asks me if I want to give it up. But seeing as his intelligence is hardly admirable, there's little to no chance that he'll figure it out. So, then, my last option—working the phrase 'get rid of it,' or 'get rid of the notebook,' or 'I give up the notebook,' or something to that effect into a casual sentence directed at Ryuzaki while Ryuk is in the room. However, again, that's not likely to work. Ryuk isn't smart enough to figure out what I'm asking him to do. I could try it, but I'm completely certain that he won't understand—and I'll just put myself in danger by saying anything in front of Ryuzaki. It would have worked if I'd predicted this scenario, if I'd had time to set up some sort of keyword ahead of time…but Ryuzaki was too fast. I didn't expect him to take me into custody, especially not when he did. I thought he would wait longer, give me more time. If he had, then I could have come up with this plan and used it to take him down. But now…_

Ryuk was still talking, almost drowning out Light's thoughts. "The way I see it, I don't have much of a choice but to wait until Ryuzaki releases you. But look here, Yagami, you'd better make it _quick_. Pretty soon the King'll be after me himself, and you _really_ don't want to get on his bad side. So whatever you're going to do, you'd better figure it out."

Light, infuriated beyond reason, was forced to concentrate every ounce of his frustration into a short glare. He desperately hoped that Ryuzaki wouldn't read much into these short glares he was sending to a seemingly empty room.

"Anyways, I think I'll—"

Ryuk's words were cut short as the door to the cell swung open, and a familiar dark-haired man filled the doorway.

"Ryuzaki!" Light exclaimed, surprised. "I didn't expect—"

The teen trailed off. And slowly, ever so slowly, shifted his gaze to the source of the quiet laughter that was now filling the chamber.

Ryuk. Ryuk was laughing. Why was he laughing?

Light forced his eyes back to Ryuzaki, knowing that he could give no sign that there was another entity in the room. He was already suspicious enough as it was.

The raspy, haunting laugh intensified. "Oh, Light…" the shinigami gasped, seemingly out of breath despite the fact that he didn't need to breathe.

"Good morning, Light," Ryuzaki greeted. "I've brought you something to eat." He took a step into the room, closing the heavy steel door behind him.

"Right, right…" Light's eyes were magnetically drawn to Ryuk, who was doubled over in a fit of uproarious laughter. "Thanks…"

"Light," Ryuk laughed again. "Oh, man, I can't believe this!"

_What is it, you oaf? What's so funny?_

The laughter finally died down, and Ryuk leaned forward, yellowish orange eyes piercing straight through Light's being. "You want to know what's so funny?" he cackled. "Well…let's just say that if you could see what I see, you'd be a lot more concerned about the suspicions of your little friend there."

The widening of Light's eyes was minute, and yet he knew that Ryuzaki saw. He saw, and he was confused. "Light?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Light didn't respond. He was staring above Ryuzaki's head, at the place where he knew his name would be floating, and he was thinking, _just what does Ryuk know about Ryuzaki that I don't?_ But even as he was thinking it, he knew—the thing that only shinigami or people with shinigami eyes could see.

_A person's true name. Ryuk can see Ryuzaki's true name. And there's only one name I can think of that would make Ryuk say something like that._

Light stared at Ryuzaki. He stared at the dark hair, the darker eyes, the scrawny form. And most of all, he stared at the space above his head, where he knew that fateful name was floating. _Ryuk…_ he thought, _I don't know how you know, I don't know how you put everything together so fast…but one thing I_ do _know is that this person…_

_This person is L._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear (because I'm posting this on two sites, and there was a bit of confusion over this on the other one) Light already suspected that Ryuzaki was L. He's too smart not to, at this point. This was just confirmation for him.


	17. Hagalaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, L's a real jerk in this chapter. Prepare to be mad.
> 
> Thanks for the support! You guys are awesome!

The move into the new headquarters was complete, and several weeks ahead of schedule. If L was aiming to change his fate, then he was right on track. However, if he wished to stay on the track he was carving out for himself, then there were many things to be done. First and foremost, he needed to head off the second Kira at the pass. According to the notebook, the second Kira would be in Japan soon. Also according to the notebook, the second Kira—labeled 'A' for short—was a popular model of short stature with long blonde hair and striking hazel eyes. With that description, L figured that it wouldn't be incredibly difficult to find the second Kira's identity. All he had to do was access a record of people entering Japan on April 2, 2004—the date listed in the notebook for when A entered Japan. Then he could narrow down his suspects and investigate from there. However, it wasn't that easy. After all, it was not yet April 2, and the second Kira was obviously already in Japan. That meant only one thing—A was going off script. But even if she was deviating from her planned path, it didn't change the fact that L had a very specific description and a general guideline pertaining to what she would do. With those specifications, he could do just what he had already planned—search the records of those entering Japan for blonde females with hazel eyes from America—but just a bit earlier. There weren't many people of A's description entering Japan, after all—and once he had his list of possible suspects, all he would have to do was research each one extensively to find out if they had any connections to Kira.

L let out a deep sigh, letting the pen clenched between two fingers slip to the desktop before him. The Death Note, splayed out before him, stared up at him forlornly. He'd already written many names that night, and before midnight struck, the list would grow by dozens more. But for now, L dropped the pen and stared blankly down at his work. He was concerned. He was concerned because even though he'd set everything into motion before it was supposed to begin, it all seemed to be coming undone. Bit by bit, it seemed that the world around him was catching up to his antics. A had already entered Japan, the task force was already convinced that L was insane for suspecting Light, and Light was already beginning to wind the detective around his finger, whether he knew it or not. And the worst part was that L _knew_ he was softening towards his companion. He knew it, and he couldn't stop it. And after he'd, ah… _kissed_ the teen the previous night, it was all over.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, L lamented for the nth time. He shouldn't have been surprised at all; he'd _known_ that he was vaguely attracted to Light, and yet the moment he kissed him it seemed as if all the walls came crashing down, and there wasn't a scrap of denial left in his body. And maybe that was why he was surprised—not because he was attracted to Light, but because he no longer had the will to deny it.

L glanced out the window above the desk, eyes picking out the thousands of tiny lights against the dark skyline below. It had been a trying day to say the least. The task force had come in for their first day of work as full time employees for L, and it hadn't gone well. Everyone—especially Chief Yagami—seemed overly tense and suspicious. L wasn't sure what exactly had gone wrong, what specifically he'd done to make them hate him (other than locking up Light, of course, though the fact that they'd discussed the deaths of the twenty-five criminals and what it meant for Light's innocence certainly didn't help) but whatever it was, he regretted it immensely. They seemed even more hostile than they had in the story in the notebook.

In other words, it wasn't looking good for L. He had to do something, and fast. He had to get Light to confess. He needed a new strategy, one that he hadn't tried. He could make Light trust him, appeal to the attraction he so obviously shared—at least to some degree. But that seemed cruel, even to L. Then again, the day of his death was approaching. Perhaps it was time to start being cruel—or at least, even crueler than before.

_Perhaps it is,_ L whispered silently, _but even so, I will not stoop so low. There has to be something else. A weak spot._

He wasn't proud of what he did next.

"Watari," he said, accessing the intercom with a touch of a button. "Bring me Kiyomi Takada."

†††

Light spent the day after being shoved into the cell in a haze. He had nothing to do, and so every moment was spent either staring at a wall or drifting steadily in and out of consciousness. It wasn't a result of any sort of sedative, he suspected—rather, his sorry state was purely out of boredom. However, whenever he wasn't unconscious or nearly so, his mind was racing, attempting to put together the pieces of the puzzle he'd been given.

Ryuzaki was L.

That was the connecting piece, the piece that hooked everything else together. Everything made sense—Ryuzaki's odd eating habits, his elevated diction, his peculiar posture… _everything._ He'd suspected it before, but now…to have confirmation…

Unfortunately, with that understanding came a terrible revelation. Namely the fact that at the end of the story, Light was supposed to kill L. He was supposed to kill Ryuzaki, who he had come to respect in a frustrated sort of way—and knowing that Ryuzaki was really L didn't help him at all. After all, Light had always respected L. How could he be expected to kill someone who he considered his idol?

_I don't really have to kill him,_ Light reminded himself. _That person in the story isn't me. I'm not the Kira that's described in the notebook. I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. I didn't kill Lind L. Tailor, I didn't kill that man who was holding all the schoolchildren hostage until he truly deserved it, and most of all, I didn't kill any innocents who have stood in my way. It would have been all too easy for me to slaughter everyone and everything that dared set foot on my path to justice. But I didn't. That alone makes me better than Kira. It shows that I haven't made the same decisions, that I have the power to change my fate. And if I can do that, then I can get through this without killing L._

_L…_ Light felt a spark of anticipation at the way the name echoed around in his head. It was so difficult to believe, so impossible to comprehend, but it was undoubtedly true that he was beginning to feel _something_ when he was with the detective. And those dark eyes, filled with such sarcastic knowledge, were a hundred times more meaningful when Light knew that they were _L's._

_Oh no,_ he thought, _I'm not allowed to become even more infatuated with him just because I've just found out that he's the person I've idolized my entire life. I'm not allowed to feel any sort of affection towards him because he's not just the most brilliant man in the world, but quite possibly the only person who is even nearly on par with me. Remember—he's treated me terribly! I mean…it could have been worse, but that doesn't mean what L has done is acceptable. Keeping me tied up was cruel, there's no way around it._

And then there was another voice, soft and questioning, in the back of his mind. _But he didn't have much of a choice but to keep you tied up like that, did he? He didn't have much of a choice but to kidnap you and lock you away. After all, if he thinks you're Kira, he thinks that to let you go free would be to let innocent people die. If you were in that situation, you would have done the same thing. There's no way around it._

Light's thoughts were halted when there was a sudden thunk from outside the cell, and the next moment the steel door was swinging inwards, mirroring that morning when L had brought him his breakfast.

Light fought back a smile. L…had brought him breakfast. _L._ The world's greatest detective.

"Hello, Light," L said from the doorway. He wasn't holding anything this time, just standing at the divide between the cell and the outside world.

"I have to hand it to you," Light said smoothly, immediately swallowing down the surge of unshaped emotion upon seeing his companion. "I didn't take you seriously when you said you were going to lock me in a cell."

"Surely you realize that I am not one to joke around," L responded flatly. He stepped into the cell, reaching behind him to close the door.

Light huffed, feigning irritation when in reality his stomach was performing backflips at the thought that he was talking to the world's greatest detective. "No, I suppose not. At least you didn't tie me to the bed."

L nodded minutely. He walked, motions stiff and robotic, to the cot, lowering himself down to sit beside the teen. "The task force doesn't like me," he said blandly.

Light blinked, surprised at the strange confession. "Well, I'm sure they don't. You've incarcerated their leader's son, after all, for seemingly no reason at all."

"It's not for no reason," L grumbled, features scrunched into a pout. Light stared in wonderment—did he know how childish he looked? "You understand, don't you? Why I'm keeping you here?"

"Of course I do. All the evidence points to me being Kira; what else could you do?"

"Exactly." He sounded flat, deflated. "But try explaining that to _them._ "

Light sighed, feeling a strange sense of pity for the man. He said nothing, but reached out to seal his palm to L's shoulder briefly in a physical display of sympathy.

L shot him a sideways glance. "May I ask you something?"

The teen was almost tempted to respond with a ' _you already did,'_ but he bit it back at the last minute after realizing how childish it sounded. "Of course."

"I was in here last night while you were sleeping."

He didn't know why he was surprised. "Of course you were."

"And I've been watching you every minute since I put you here."

"Naturally."

"You…said something strange." The detective was shuffling his feet as though nervous, fingers curling into the sheets of the bed. "You were just sitting there, staring blankly at a wall. But then, suddenly, you lurched forward as if you'd been struck, and you called out something. The audio was off at the time, so I was unable to hear—but it looked like a name. Do you remember?"

Light winced, careful to hide his discomfort for fear that the detective was watching. Of course, he was. "Ah, yes…I remember."

"After that, you began shooting periodic glances to various parts of the cell, as though examining something that was not there."

His stomach flipped as he recalled the event L was speaking of—the moment in which he had jumped to his feet, surprised at Ryuk's entrance, and snapped out his name in irritation. _He noticed. If he knows anything about shinigami, if he is the person who owns the first half of the story, then he'll guess that it was a shinigami I was talking to._ Light's breath became short momentarily. _No, no…you need to calm down. If you panic, he'll suspect you even more. And besides, even if he suspects you were talking to a shinigami, what can he do to prove it? There's no physical evidence. And there's no way that if L stood up and told the court, 'yes, this person is Kira because he was talking to a shinigami that no one can see but him,' they would take him seriously. No…for now I am safe. L needs one thing and one thing only—a confession. It's the only way he'll be able to prove my involvement to such a degree to incite the death penalty, which he no doubt strives for._

L leaned closer, eyes uncomfortably intense. "Tell me, Light…what were you doing?"

_What do I say? What can I do?_ "I…was talking to myself, really. It's just something that I do when I'm under too much pressure."

He didn't look convinced. "And the name you called out? Care to specify?"

"Well…" Light glanced around, relieved to find that Ryuk was not in the room, and would therefore not see the foolish display he was about to put on. "That name belonged to someone I used to know back my the early years of high school."

"A friend?"

Why did he look so defensive? He almost seemed irritated at the mention of Light having a friend other than himself. "Yes, Ryuzaki, a friend. Or at least, the closet thing I've ever had to a friend."

"What was your relation to this friend?"

"We were _friends_ , Ryuzaki, like I said. We shared a lot of the same classes and just ended up deciding to spend more time together."

"And you became so close to this friend that you would randomly voice his name to an empty room?"

_Crap, I need a better cover story…there's no way he'll buy it if I just say yes. What to do, what to do…?_ "We became very close," he blurted out.

L's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How close?"

"Just—"

"Did you love him?"

Light's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. " _Love?"_ he choked out, fighting bile as it rose in his throat. "Oh dear god, no!"

"You did, didn't you?" It was hardly a question.

"I said no and I meant it, you dolt! I did not love him! In fact, I have never loved anyone!" Light ground his teeth together in frustration, hissing slightly when they closed harshly on his tongue. As a metallic taste filled his mouth, L's eyes only seemed to drift closer. They were close—too close—and intense—too intense—and yet he refused to draw away. Light expected him to make a comment about his swift ceasing of verbalization, but to his surprise, he said nothing of it.

"I see…" he whispered.

Light shifted uncomfortably. "Is that all you came here to ask?"

The detective was silent for a moment longer, and in that moment his eyes snapped immediately to his knees. He leaned back. "To be perfectly honest, I more wanted to escape from the task force than to question you about your involvement with this old friend of yours. I just thought that the name may have had something to do with Kira." The sideways glance that followed told Light that L definitely still thought that the name had something to do with Kira. He hadn't bought Light's explanation. "But like I said, that's not really why I came here."

_You wanted to spend time with me._ Light felt a deep and powerful warmth, and a smile fought its way to the surface before he could stop it. "They're too much for even you, eh?"

"I don't know how you've put up with being around so many people for so long." The detective slumped up against the wall, legs slipping out from under him as he did, so that he was sitting normally instead of crouching. "It's exhausting."

The teen chuckled, "Hey, just because you have no social skills doesn't mean that others don't. I'm more than able to handle hanging around people like them."

"Yes, but _forever?_ I can understand your ability to put up with them through the stages of your adolescence, but I can't imagine working with them for a living. You want to join the police force, no? It seems…beneath you."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, there's a larger purpose in joining the NPA." Light eyed L out of the corner of his eye, eager to see his reaction upon hearing his next word. "L."

The reaction was immediate. The detective's entire body tensed, his head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. "What did you just call me?"

Light feigned innocence, laughing, "I wasn't calling _you_ L, I was saying that L was my greater purpose." _Gotcha. With a reaction like that, now I'm certain I'm right. You_ are _L._ "I'm sure you understand, seeing as you're a detective yourself."

"You want to work beside him? You've hinted at such a thing before."

"I admire him. I would do anything for him." That was pushing it a bit far, but L ate it up without question.

"And if L came to you and requested that you confess? Would you do it?"

Light bit back a grin. He raised his head, pouring on the doe-eyed wonderment, and whispered, "If I was guilty…then yes, I would confess. But only to him."

"Why is that?"

"He wouldn't have me executed."

L's raised a brow. "What makes you say that? Kira has murdered thousands of people, and the death toll continues to rise."

He had to be careful with his next words. "Ryuzaki…whoever L is, he is a very lonely person. He has lived in isolation his entire life with no companionship whatsoever. Even if he happens to come into contact with other humans, those humans are well below his level of intelligence. After so many years in isolation, I'm sure that he longs for companionship."

"And you think you fit the bill? You, a mass murderer?"

"Fine—let's pretend I'm Kira, then. Let's pretend that I'm Kira, and that I've confessed to L. Now, let's look at this from L's perspective. L looks at me, and he sees someone on his level. He sees someone unlike anyone he's ever met—someone with not just charisma, but staggering intelligence to back it up. And L, after so long in isolation, realizes that he's found his equal. How can he be expected to give that equal up? How can L be expected to give _me_ up?" They were playing a dangerous game now, a game of double meanings and implications. Their feet were placing themselves delicately and with equal gain upon the tiles of their playing field, and neither could afford to fall.

"But even if L has found his equal, you are a mass murderer. His morals dictate that you must die."

"Yes, I am a mass murderer—still pretending, of course—but you're forgetting one crucial detail: I haven't killed anyone who hasn't deserved it."

"That's not true. Kira has killed many innocent people in his pursuit of justice."

"Ah, but your logic is flawed, my friend. We have already determined that there are two, if not three Kiras. One Kira has done nothing but kill those who deserve it, those who have been given the death sentence. The other tries to do as the first Kira does, but is unable to keep up. He—or she—kills in a pathetic attempt to follow in Kira's footsteps. But she makes mistakes. She is not smart enough to equal Kira's greatness. And so sometimes, when she kills, she kills without justice."

L scowled. "Your point?"

Light leaned slowly closer. He had him now—L was in a trance, unable to lean back. In fact, he seemed to be inching forward. "My point, Ryuzaki, is that L is wrong in calling me an unjust killer. For as I know, and as you are slowly beginning to realize, if I am Kira, then I am the first Kira. The original. The one who kills only those deserving of death." He smiled at the detective, eyes glittering with innocence. "When L realizes that I've done nothing but kill for justice, how can he have me executed? Even if he thinks that what I'm doing is wrong, he must still understand that I was doing it with only the purest of intentions. If I end up under the knife of the law, then L will save me."

" _Save…?"_ L choked out, stunned.

"Yes, Ryuzaki…L will save me. He will come to me, under the guise of another, and he will plead to the court on my behalf. Then, when he's won—and he _will_ win—he will take me with him, and we will work together."

"That's insane," L said, eyes wide. "You expect L to step in, after working so hard to catch you, and save you at the last minute?"

"I do." Light smiled brightly, though in reality he wasn't so sure that L would really do such a thing. But a moment later his expression darkened, and with it L appeared to grow even more nervous. "But do you want to know the truth, Ryuzaki?"

The detective could manage only a small nod.

"There's another reason I think he's going to save me." Once again, he was entering dangerous territory. It was time to pull the veil off of a suspicion that had slowly been building in the back of his mind for a long time. "Something has been bothering me, Ryuzaki. Something that I can't explain away as just another coincidence." He leaned his cheek on the palm of his hand, allowing several strands of amber hair to drape themselves across his eyes. "I saw those charts you've been keeping. I've been watching them every chance I get out of mere curiosity. And I noticed something."

L cleared his throat awkwardly. "What did you notice?"

"Well, it involves those numbers you showed me pertaining to how many people were dying each day. According to your numbers, there were about fifty people dying per day as a result of the first Kira, the one who kills only those who deserve it. Other than that, there were about fifteen criminals dying a day that were considered borderline. In other words, they were walking the fine line between deserving death and escaping it. These deaths can be attributed to the second Kira, who is flawed in her reasoning and not certain of her work. That's it—those sixty-five deaths cover both the first and second Kiras. However, there aren't just sixty-five deaths occurring per day—there are far, far more. There is a whole other section of deaths that don't fit under the umbrella of the other two Kiras. We speculated about a third Kira, did we not? Well, I think that these extra deaths are the work of the third."

"A reasonable conclusion, but I fail to see what it has to do with anything else."

"Tell me, Ryuzaki…wouldn't it be interesting if the third Kira was L?"

The detective jolted back, clearly alarmed. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"I thought it would be obvious." Light brushed his hair back out of his eyes, clearing a line of vision between him and his companion. "I was keeping my own record, you know. It's the whole reason I was arrested. I did research on some of Kira's victims. And do you know what I found? I found that some of the victims had no record of their existence at all. No one—not the first Kira, nor the second—could possibly have known of their existence, not unless they knew the victims personally. And seeing as the victims were of all different ages, races, genders, and locations around the world, it is next to impossible that the first or second Kira knew _all_ of them personally. This leads me to believe that they were indeed criminals—but their records were kept secret from the public by someone very powerful. I never thought about it much before, really, but all of that information takes us to the conclusion that the person behind everything is L himself."

"Even if you're right, it doesn't necessarily have to be L's work. There are many people with the authority to keep such information from the public."

_I have him._ "No, Ryuzaki. There aren't. And apart from that, there's another reason I think L— _you—_ are one of the Kiras."

"And what might that be, Light? Enlighten me."

"Well…every time I've mentioned killing someone who deserved it, you haven't argued that no one deserves death. You've been completely accepting of my assessment that killing certain people is just. That paints you in a rather suspicious light, wouldn't you say? It makes it sound like you share my ideals—like you agree with me. Almost as if…if you had the power to kill, you would be using it the same way the first Kira is."

L's eyes glittered. "But Light, now it is you who has forgotten something. I am not L—and so if you are arguing that L is Kira, then I am entirely exempt from this situation."

Light pretended to give a thoughtful pause, smiling gently. "Oh…of course, Ryuzaki, I'd forgotten. Of course you're not L."

Their game was at an end. Light had L beat, and L knew it. But then, just as Light was about to start his silent celebration, L said something that changed everything.

"Her."

Light frowned. "What?"

"Her. When you were talking about the second Kira, you used feminine pronouns. Now, why would you do that?"

"It was a guess," the teen covered smoothly, realizing too late his mistake. He wasn't supposed to know that the second Kira, referred to as A in his half of the story, was an American model—a female. "I assumed. Don't read into it."

"Most people would have assumed that the second Kira was male. And when you spoke of the second Kira every time before, you always used gender neutral pronouns, or alternatively, 'him or her.' But this time you didn't." L's eyes glinted in the dim light. "I think you made a mistake, Light. I think you got too ahead of yourself and slipped up."

"I didn't slip up, I just made an assumption! Besides, no one knows if the second Kira is female or not. Referring to him or her by feminine pronouns isn't a mistake, nor does it give anything away."

"On the contrary, my dear Light," L whispered. "I just so happen to know that the second Kira is female. And somehow, so do you. Now, what does that tell you?"

Light was speechless. _I've…I've made a mistake._ "It doesn't tell me anything. It was just an assumption, I tell you!"

L pushed himself off the bed, and in moments he was looming over Light. "Make no mistake, Light Yagami. You _are_ Kira, and I _will_ get a confession from you. Today's conversation only cements my suspicions—and when I let the task force listen to this conversation, I'm sure they'll begin to suspect you as well."

_No…if the task force hears this, they'll have to begin to doubt me, even if only by a little. I know from my half of the story that certain members of the task force ultimately become my downfall. If they begin to suspect me so soon, then they might bring about my demise sooner than planned._ "It was an honest mistake, Ryuzaki. Seriously, you're overreacting."

"Am I, Light?" The detective breathed. His fingers shot out, and before Light knew what was happening L was grasping the side of his face with a touch that seemed far too familiar for comfort. And then L was inching even closer, his sweet breath rolling across the teen's face. "I know what you are," he whispered, echoing the very same words Light had spoken to him upon one of their first meetings.

"Do you?" Light responded shakily.

The detective leaned closer still, and his long hair tickled Light's cheeks. "You're a murderer."

_Yes. But not in the way you think._

"A villain."

_No…not a villain._

"A genius."

_Just like you._

"L—" Light breathed, vice hitching nervously as he caught his mistake. "Ryuzaki—"

The following silence was extendedly tense. L remained frozen, lips nearly brushing Light's, noses a mere centimeter apart, hands gripping the teen's sleeves. And then, just as soon as it had begun, it was over. L pushed back almost reluctantly, avoiding Light's gaze with a passion.

"Ryuzaki?" Light repeated.

L's breath sounded in short, soft breaths, his cheeks palely flushed. "Forgive me, Light. I got carried away." He was on his feet and heading for the door a moment later. It seemed that even after coming so far, his reclusive nature was filling his blood with a single message: _run._ "There are things to attend to, you understand. I can't spend all day here." His hand shot out, fingers slipping around the doorknob.

"Ryuzaki, wait—"

The detective paused. Then he cleared his throat, muttering, "I came here to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Yes." L's head turned slightly, but his eyes remained hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. "I am about to do something terrible."

Light's heart clenched in his chest. "What do you mean? What are you about to do?"

The detective turned his head back to the door. "Forgive me."

"Ryuzaki!" Light called, shooting to his feet. But by the time he took his first step for the door, the detective he was calling for had already left him alone.

†††

_He's guessed that I have a Death Note. Not only that, but he's guessed that I'm L. Damn it…how could I let him get the drop on me like this? I thought I had everything under control. And then, just now, I was about to kiss him again! Just what's wrong with me?_

L shuddered. No matter how hard he tried to shake off the strange emotion that had gripped him back in the cell, he couldn't make it go away. "Watari," he called out to the inventor through the intercom, determined to take his mind off his newfound surges of emotion. "Is Takada in the detention chamber?"

"She is, sir. What will you do with her?"

"I'm going to question her before I do anything else. She might know something, though I doubt it."

"And after that?"

_He's suspicious,_ L realized. _He knows I've been up to something these past few weeks, and he's beginning to become fed up with my secrets._ He felt a deep pang of bitterness. _I don't need him. If he's going to pry into my life, then I can just—_

"Sir?"

L, irritated at being interrupted, said, "That's my business."

"If you are planning on harming her in any way—"

"It's none of your concern, Watari." L was sure that the inventor was about to respond, but he removed his finger from the intercom button before he had the chance. Ridiculous…he would not have his caretaker interfering with his affairs. He would get a confession from Light—and if the price for such a thing was holding the life of one of the teen's friends as leverage, he would gladly pay it. He would take every friend hostage, hold every family member as leverage until Light confessed. And then, if all else failed…Light himself would be the one under L's knife. It wasn't a pleasant plan. It wasn't agreeable. But it was the only thing that would work—of that, L was certain. He didn't want to do it. But if it was a choice between the fate of the world and the unjust detention of a few dozen people, L would gladly take the latter.

L found himself in front of the detention cell without having consciously moved. The door was open a moment later, and he was entering the cell. This particular room was not located on the same level as Light's current quarters. Rather, the detention cells were located just a floor above the basement. This was where Takada, the feisty female that seemed so attracted to Light, would be waiting.

Sure enough, the moment Takada saw L, all hell broke loose.

" _You!"_ she shrieked. "You're that…that _hooligan!_ That man who pushed Light into the fountain and pulled him out of class! The one who insulted us!"

"Hello, Kiyomi Takada," L greeted evenly. He pushed the door closed with a foot, strolling to the single table in the room and seating himself in one of the two chairs. "It's nice to see you again."

Takada glared daggers. She was chained to the chair, which was chained to the table—and she didn't look happy about it. "What have you done with Light?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Light Yagami has been missing for well over a week now. He hasn't been back to school a single time, and no one knows where he is! I've been to his family, but they wouldn't give me a definite answer." Takada raised a finger, jabbing it in L's direction like a weapon. "You've done something to him, I know it! Do you have him locked up here like me? Have you been hurting him? Torturing him?"

_If you can't get a confession out of him, it may very well come to that,_ L thought grimly. "He is here, Takada, and completely unharmed."

"I want to see him!"

"You will, in time. But for now, there are questions I need to ask you." L's hand snapped to his pocket, withdrawing the fake police badge he always had on him. "My name is Ryuzaki," he said. "I'm a detective with the NPA."

"Let me see that!" Takada snatched the badge with her unbound hand, bringing it close to her eyes for an excessive amount of time. Finally she had no choice but to recognize its legitimacy, and she shoved it back at L with a growl of irritation. "Fine…what do you want?"

"I need you to listen to me very carefully, Takada, and keep an open mind. And above all else, I need your word that you will not take any information shared here outside of this room."

Takada hesitated, but in the end she had no choice. "Fine…continue."

L nodded. "Before we begin, you need to know that Light Yagami has been taken into custody under suspicion of a very serious crime."

The reaction was immediate. Takada's eyes widened impossibly, her mouth falling open. "W-what? A…crime? What on earth could he have done?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to share that information with you."

"What? Why—"

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Takada, and then you'll be free to go." L curled his toes around the edge of his chair tensely. If the girl gave him the right answers, then his whole investigation had the potential to end here and now. If not, then it could continue indefinitely. "Is that okay?"

She shuffled her feet, stared at the table nervously. "Okay," she whispered. "If I can do something to help Light…"

Her fear, her concern, her willingness to do _anything_ to save Light…it was disgusting. She would never be good enough for him, _never!_ Without realizing he was doing it, L bared his teeth. And then, oblivious to the sudden fear flickering in Takada's eyes, he began to speak.

†††

Hours later, L had never been more frustrated in all his life. His conversation with Takada had wielded nothing but information he already knew, but packed with a sickening layer of bias. Takada liked Light, she would never say anything to incriminate him. L suspected that the teen could have murdered someone in front of her and she wouldn't have the guts to say anything about it. How incredibly frustrating. How pointless.

It was time for the next stage of his plan.

†††

The door opened, and Light raised his head. "Ryuzaki?" he asked, surprised to see him so soon. It had only been a few hours since they'd had their last conversation. "What are you doing back here?"

The detective moved towards him with purpose. "Your hands."

"R-Ryuzaki…what's going on?" Light offered his companion his friends, wincing as metal cuffs were snapped over them with a vengeance.

The detective was silent. He reached forward again, and Light didn't see but rather felt a pair of noise-blocking headphones close over his ears. The teen fought a spike of panic as he said, "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Hold still." His voice was muffled by the headphones. L reached up, a strip of black cloth in hand, and covered Light's eyes without a second thought.

"Come on, Ryu—mph!"

L had pulled a second strip of cloth in between his teeth, tying it behind his head as a makeshift gag. Light cursed silently, remembering with irritation that this was how L had kept him for several days back at the hotel. He hated it, not being able to use his senses. L could be doing anything and he wouldn't know.

There was a dull murmur in his ear, and Light knew that L was speaking to him. However, there was no way for him to hear what was being said. He was clueless as to where they were going as L led him from the cell and, presumably, out of the prison.

Their journey didn't last as long as Light expected. There were a few minutes of walking, L's hand closed firmly on his shoulder. After that, a sharp feeling in his stomach as they descended in what felt like an elevator. The sensation only lasted a moment, though, and then they were moving again.

After that, the trip was short. A heartbeat later Light felt himself being lowered into what felt like a chair, and the headphones were removed.

"…here," L was saying. "Now, let us begin." He removed the gag.

"Ryuzaki, just what's going on? I thought you were going to leave me in that cell indefinitely."

"I told you, Light, that I would get a confession out of you."

A pang of worry speared Light's heart. Just what did L have planned? "Come on, what do you mean? I'm not going to confess to a crime that I didn't commit!"

"And I think you will confess because you _did_ kill all those people. Once you've done that, I can decide what to do with you."

"Ryu…what are you planning to do to me?" _If he's planning to torture me…how long can I hold out?_

"It won't be torture, Light. Not really." There was a faint shuffling noise, and then Light felt a sting as new cuffs, tighter than the old ones, bound him to the chair he was seated in. "Well, I suppose some might call this torture. But you have my word that I will not lay a hand on you nor anyone you care about.

Light tried to open his eyes, but the blindfold dug into his skin painfully. "Let me see, Ryuzaki…please, let me see what you're doing."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Just remove the blindfold!"

There was a moment of silence before he felt it. L moved, clothing rustling slightly as he went, and the next moment there were cold fingers at Light's temple. "Light…" he breathed. "I told you that I was about to do something terrible."

The teen's lips parted, intent upon assuring L that whatever he did couldn't be so bad, but before he could the blindfold was ripped off, and Light was rendered speechless.

It was an ordinary room. White walls, a steel table, two steel chairs. Cameras in the corners. For all intents and purposes, an interrogation room. But that wasn't why Light had been rendered speechless. No…that was left up to the computer set up before him, the screen painfully bright.

"Ryuzaki…" Light breathed. "What have you done?"

The computer was displaying a live video feed of a cell just like the one Light had been kept in. And on the bed, hands cuffed behind her back, was Kiyomi Takada.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Light demanded furiously. "Why are you bringing my friends into this? What have you done to her?"

L's eyes were blank, his face expressionless. He looked like a doll. "I haven't done anything but talk to her. Whether I do anything more will be up to you."

Light's voice shook as he whispered, "You promised that you wouldn't lay a hand on anyone I cared about."

"I won't," L promised again. "But, you see, I removed you from the detention level for a reason. In preparation for holding criminals like you within the cells, I rigged the entire place with remotely activated airtight seals."

The implications of such a thing didn't take long to register in Light's brain. "Ryuzaki, no—!"

"When I give the word, the entire detention level will fill with gas designed to render anyone inside unconscious."

Light relaxed momentarily. So it was just designed to knock people out? That wasn't so bad. Kiyomi would be fine. He wouldn't have to confess.

But L wasn't done. "Let me finish before you relax, Light. What I was going to say is that the detention level will _normally_ fill with knock out gas. However, this is not a normal situation. Just for you, I've prepared something special." The detective gestured to the computer, bringing attention to Kiyomi's terrified expression. She knew something was wrong, even if she didn't understand the magnitude of the danger she was in. "Instead of filling with gas designed to render victims unconscious, I've rigged the chamber to fill with a deadly toxin."

_No…he has to be lying. There's no way I just heard what I think I heard._

L bowed his head, seeming reserved in the face of the terrible crime he was about to commit. "You heard me correctly, Light. And I swear on my life that this is no joke." His dark eyes turned to the screen, where Takada cowered in fear. "You know what I want. If you do not confess, then the chamber will fill with gas, and Takada will die."

_I don't believe you. L wouldn't let an innocent person die._ "But I'm not guilty! You'll make me confess to a crime I didn't commit to save my friend?"

"Please, Light…we both know the truth. You are the only one who continues to deny it. Tell me that you are Kira and Takada will go free."

"I can't…I'm not Kira!"

L raised a hand, and Light saw that there was a remote in his hand. "I will give you one more chance." His thumb was poised over a button. "Light Yagami, are you Kira?"

_I can't tell him…but if I don't, will he really kill Takada? What do I do?_ Light's mind raced, at war with himself. _I just can't believe that L would let this happen. He's supposed to fight for justice! How can he let someone like Takada just…die? And even if he's willing to let her die, I can't just confess, right? One innocent life for the whole world…I hate it, but it's what has to be done. If L is evil enough to kill her, then I can't stop him, not without dooming the rest of the world. If I confess and he captures me, I won't be able to continue helping this world._

"Well?" L asked softly, poised to strike. "Are you Kira?"

And Light knew he had no choice. "Ryuzaki…" he rasped. "I swear to you that I am not Kira."

The detective's expression was cold, concrete. "So be it."

L's thumb slammed down on the button.

Light jolted forward, straining against the chains holding him captive. His eyes were drawn magnetically to the screen, where…nothing was happening. He stared up at L quizzically.

"The gas is colorless," L said flatly. "It will take approximately forty seconds for it to fill the room, and another ten for Takada to inhale enough to remotely shut down all bodily functions."

_I don't believe it…I don't. You won't let her die. At the last second you'll stop all this._

"At any time you can confess, and I will deactivate the seals. The gas will drain from the chamber, and I will send Watari in to retrieve Takada and administer treatment."

"Ryuzaki, please! Let Takada go! I'm not Kira!"

On the screen, Takada was beginning to show signs of distress. Her hands, bound in front of her body, were pressed tightly to her chest in an attempt to ease her obvious discomfort. She appeared to be having trouble breathing.

"Confess," L urged softly, dangerously. "Either you confess, or Takada dies. Her blood will be on your hands, just like the blood of your countless victims."

A low keen of distress was pushing at the backs of Light's teeth, struggling to escape. He forced it back, swallowing hard. _There's no way…just wait…_

"Thirty seconds," L reported calmly. " _Confess."_

"I can't!" Light burst out. "I'm not him, Ryuzaki, I swear! I'm just _me!_ Please!"

A pause. "Twenty seconds."

"Ryuzaki…"

"Ten seconds."

Takada had fallen. She was kneeling on the ground, coughing violently, nearly on her stomach. Her fingers were at her throat, clawing at a force that wouldn't relinquish its grip.

"Five…four…"

" _L!"_ Light screamed, voice cracking.

L paused. "Something to tell me?"

"I…" Light's eyes were drawn to the monitor. Takada was lying on her side, chest barely moving. He closed his eyes. _It's over._ "…No."

L's eyes narrowed, darkening to a shade that could only be described as a deep and tarry black. "Zero."

Light tucked his chin to his chest, refusing to watch Takada's final moments on the screen.

He knew it was over before he saw it. He heard L's soft sigh and immediately equated it with Takada's demise. "Such a waste," the detective murmured. "A disgusting waste of human life…all because you're too selfish to confess to your crimes."

Light expected to feel anger. He expected a surge of unstoppable fury, one so strong that not even a will as strong as his own could contain it. But instead, all he felt was a terrible feeling of numbness. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened, couldn't understand that Takada was dead because of L. _I…I'd just started to believe that maybe you weren't as bad as you made yourself out to be. I'd just started to believe that maybe…just maybe…we were the same._

"Light Yagami."

The teen looked up, movements slow and sluggish out of disbelief.

"You _will_ confess to me."

"Why?" Light rasped in response, barely able to force the words from his nearly unresponsive lips. "Your leverage is gone. Even if it wasn't, I'm not guilty."

"There will be others." L drew closer, eyes dark and intense. "I know that you are guilty—and until you give me your confession, I will continue to find those closest to you, and I will continue to repeat this exercise as many times as it takes for you to cave."

"But…" the teen breathed, "L wouldn't let innocent people die."

Dark eyes narrowed to slits. "I am not L. You are mistaken."

"You work for him, at least…you told me you did."

"He doesn't need to know everything I do in order to get a confession."

Light stared in horror as L—and he _knew_ that he was L—drew away swiftly. The remote fell from his fingers, clattering to the table. The sound echoed ominously around the nearly empty room. The teen followed the detective with his eyes as he moved, expecting him to turn around at any moment and proclaim that the whole thing had been a joke, that Takada was still alive and about to walk through the door. But he didn't—and without saying so much as another word, the dark-haired man left the room.

And Light, no longer under the watchful gaze of his captor, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally allowed himself to cry.

†††

_He's crying._

L stood with his back pressed to the wall just outside the detention chamber, closing his eyes tightly as the soft, muffled sounds emanating from inside washed over him. Light was crying, attempting to muffle the sounds to no avail. What L had done…it had driven the teen to tears.

_He's broken down,_ he thought, uncomfortable with the deep feeling of remorse in his chest. He vaguely recalled his recently developed vicious streak and wondered where it had fled to so swiftly. In the past he would have enjoyed having torn his victim down so perfectly, but now…he wasn't sure he liked it anymore. _I can't believe that he's crying. I suppose it's only natural, but still…I didn't think he cared about Takada enough to cry._

L's phone let out a tiny beep, prompting him to answer the incoming call and raise the device to his ear. "Is it done?"

_"Yes, Ryuzaki. Takada has been removed from the cell."_

"And…?"

_"She's perfectly fine. The mixture of gases was designed to cause shortness of breath and eventual unconsciousness, not death—as you well know. Did you get the confession you were looking for?"_

L glanced into the detention chamber, where Light's chin was pressed firmly into his chest. His soft sobs still echoed through the small room. "No. Unfortunately, Light remains unwilling to confess to me."

_"Ryuzaki…if he was unwilling to confess after watching the 'death' of one of his friends, then how can you still suspect his guilt? He is not a sociopath; he cares about his friends."_

"He doesn't care about them enough to save their lives by confessing." Realizing his voice was steadily climbing in volume, L immediately bit back the fury behind his words. "Mark my words, Watari, there is _someone_ out there who I can threaten that will force Light confess. I _will_ find them."

_"The task force will not be happy if they realize that you've been doing this without their knowledge."_

Hah…the _task force_ would never know what was happening. They were currently working away on an updated list of Kira's victims back in the main investigation room, unaware that their leader was several floors below, antagonizing the son of the chief. "They will never know," L responded belatedly. "And besides, it's not as if I killed Takada—and I certainly won't be killing anyone _else_ in order to get Light to confess. His family, his friends…they will all be safe."

_"I see. Then what will our next move be, sir?"_

L tilted his eyes upwards, locking them on the ceiling. "We need someone else. Another one of Light's friends." _Now…who would work best? There has to be another classmate, someone Light would care about enough to confess for. What about that person he called out to when he was alone in the cell? If I dig back into his past a little deeper, I'm sure I can find someone who fits that description—that is, if Light was telling the truth. And that, of course, is rather questionable._ "Return Takada to her home, and make sure she doesn't say anything about happened. After that, you should to watch over the task force while I conduct research. I will give you a new target by the end of the day."

_"As you wish."_

There was a soft click, and the phone went dead. L slipped the device back into his pocket, and for just a moment, he paused. Light was still crying, nearly silent by now, and L felt the sharp urge to comfort him. But if he wanted to break Light, then such a thing was out of the question. And so with that, L turned away and headed for his quarters to research his next target.

†††

There was no information on Light's supposed friend anywhere L looked. He'd checked everything—every student, be it male or female, that could conceivably be linked to the mysterious person. However, there was nothing. Perhaps the name was an alias, but L doubted it. More likely, that name meant something to Light that he was unwilling to divulge. More likely, that name belonged to someone connected to Kira. And if Light wouldn't tell him anything about the person, L couldn't find him and use him as leverage. So, then—plan B.

L's finger hovered over the intercom button. He hesitated. _This is evil,_ he told himself. _If you do this, there will be no going back. Light will hate you—and maybe he should. But still…I have no other choice. If I don't get him to confess, then I will die, and the world will fall to Kira. There's no use in holding back any longer. Anything it takes to change my fate. Anything it takes to change the fate of this world._ But even with such logic in place, L's heart still felt heavy, and his head still drooped forward under the weight of what he would do next.

The detective's finger jolted on the button, and the next moment Watari's voice was leaking through faintly.

_"Yes, sir?"_

"Bring me Sayu Yagami."


	18. The Wheel of Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading, and thanks for the support!

"There! All done!" Misa Amane sat back on her bed, grinning broadly. In her hands there rested a series of videotapes, each one packed with a different message for the people of the world. These were the tapes that would put her in contact with Kira. If he was still able to act in any way, he would find a way to make contact after he saw them.

Rem floated closer, inspecting the tapes. "That's it?"

"Of course!" The model turned her head to regard the off-white shinigami. "My friend did what I asked! Now all I have to do is send off the tapes to Sakura TV. They'll air them, I'm sure of it."

"And after that?"

Misa nearly rolled her eyes. "We've been over this. We'll work together to change the world."

Rem's eyes narrowed. "When I gave that notebook to you, you were intended to use it for—"

"—For my own purposes, I know. And I've told you that I want to do this."

The shinigami didn't seem convinced. "Misa, you know that I am going to help you in any way I can. I will tell you the instant I spot another shinigami, and I will tell you which human has no lifespan."

The model nodded gratefully. "And I thank you for that, Rem. And you understand why I can't accept the shinigami eyes, don't you? Not yet, at least."

"You don't want to shorten your lifespan."

"Well…yes, that's part of it." Misa looked away from her pale companion. "But my reasoning doesn't matter right now. Let's just focus on getting these tapes to Sakura TV. There's only a few more days until the date at Aoyama, and we need to keep it."

†††

L pushed open the door to the detention chamber slowly, wincing as a metallic creak met his ears. It had ben several hours since Takada's 'death,' and this was the first time he was returning to check on Light. He'd left him alone out of something like common courtesy, helping him preserve at least a bit of his pride. But now it was time to retrieve him, to make sure he hadn't lost it entirely. After all, after taking such a mental beating, who knew what kind of condition he would be in?

"Light?" L called softly, peering into the dimly lit room.

There was no response.

L moved into the room on light feet, making his way to the chair. The detective's spindly fingers grasped the back of the chair, and with a sharp tug he whirled the entire structure around to face him.

Light…didn't look good. His eyes were closed tightly, as if he were trying to block out his assailant. His lips were pursed tightly, but L spotted a tiny trail of blood dripping from the corner, most likely as a result of the teen clamping his teeth down on his tongue. And his skin…pale as snow.

"Light?" L repeated, feeling a slight tinge of nervousness. Had he gone too far? "Are you okay?" His fingertips brushed the teen's cheek, and he was concerned to feel that he was ice cold. It wasn't _that_ cold in the room, was it?

Light shifted slightly at the touch, eyes cracking open slightly. He was silent.

"We're going to go back to your cell for a while," L said uncomfortably. "I need this room to question someone else." _Your sister._

The teen raised his head every so slightly. He gave a very shallow nod, but nothing more.

His discomfort growing, L moved to unlock the cuffs around Light's wrists. Then, the deed done, he stepped back to let his companion stand. "Can you walk?"

The answer was spoken in a whisper. "Yes." He offered nothing more, electing to push himself up slowly, stiffly. His head remained hung, chin nearly pressing against the fabric of his shirt. Although he was moving, each movement appeared to cost him a hellish amount of energy.

_I overdid it,_ L thought, though he still wasn't sure if he truly had or if it was just his newfound affection for the young man clouding his judgment. _Dear god, is he okay?_

Their journey was tense and silent—on L's behalf because he was staring at Light, attempting to figure out how to both fix what he'd done and get a confession from him, and on Light's behalf because he was evidently traumatized. The horrible silence drug on and on as they neared the cell, and stretched endlessly on as L saw Light to the cot resting against the far wall. The teen dropped onto the cot heavily, and there he stayed. His eyes were dull, his breathing steady. He looked comatose.

"Light," L said yet again, though he found himself trailing off before he could think of a way to continue the sentence. Everything he wanted to tell the teen was resting on the tip of his tongue, pushing at the backs of his teeth, but unable to break through the silence.

And then, to his surprise, Light spoke. "What is it, Ryuzaki?" Light rasped. "Are you upset that it worked?"

L swallowed thickly. He'd never felt this bad about something before, and he didn't like it. "It didn't work. You didn't confess."

The teen laughed humorlessly. "Oh, but it _did_ work. You wanted a confession, yes, but you wanted something else even more. You wanted to _break_ me, Ryuzaki." Light's eyes rolled lazily over to regard L, and much to the detective's horror, there was no spark of life within. "Well? Are you happy?"

"You are not broken. If you were, you wouldn't have the strength to argue."

A shrug. A light roll of the eyes. "Hmm…I suppose you're right. Well then, Ryuzaki, what's next? Killing one of my friends before my very eyes…what can top something like that?"

There was an unfamiliar emotion swelling in L's chest. Was it…fear? Was he _scared_ of something?

Light hadn't stopped talking in that soft, dangerous tone. "Do you want to know what the worst part is, Ryuzaki? The worst part is that I was beginning to _care_ about you. Just when I thought you might be someone I could get along with, become friends with, solve this case with, you _stabbed me in the back._ "

"Beginning to _care…?_ "

Light continued on as if he hadn't said anything strange at all. "The point is, I thought we were beginning to actually get along. Hell, you were even about to _kiss—"_

L's entire form jolted in alarm. "I was not about to kiss you! You read too far into the situation!"

Light huffed, "Yeah, right. Our lips were centimeters apart."

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. "You're not upset?"

"Of course I'm upset! You just _murdered_ my friend!"

"No, no…you're not upset I nearly kissed you?"

" _What?"_ The look on Light's face was incredulous. "Of course I'm not upset about that!"

_He wasn't upset about it? He didn't mind?_ "Wait," L said dumbly. "You really didn't mind? Males aren't normally pleased to have such contact with other males, and so—"

Light was on his feet so fast that L recoiled in surprise. The weak shadow of a boy was gone, replaced by a being wracked with anger. His hand shot up, and before L had a chance to react he felt a burning slap across his cheek. "I'm _gay!"_ the teen bit out furiously.

L's fingers rose to his cheek tentatively, brushing the inflamed skin. "You're—"

"That's right, you insufferable bastard, laugh it up!" The disgust in his eyes was unmistakable. "I _hate_ you Ryuzaki, you know that? I can't _stand_ you!"

For a long moment, L could do nothing but stare. A part of him was screaming that he should stay, comfort Light, explain that he mattered far too much to him to be so easily scared off. But the other part was screaming in equal measure that he should run. He was facing something unknown, a terrifying surge of emotion that he couldn't name—and in the face of that emotion, his flight response won out.

"Ryuzaki?" Light rasped, eyes glittering for the first time with apprehension.

L didn't respond. Instead, he whirled around and ran from the cell as fast as he could. Light yelled something after him, but L was already too far gone to hear. The instant he was outside the cell he wrenched the door closed and pressed his back against it, spreading his arms to either side and grabbing onto the walls for dear life, as if merely standing across the door could prevent it from ever opening again.

As time went on, L's breathing began to slow, and his rational mind returned. _Light…I should have known. It explains his lack of interest in his female friends, and why he shows periodic hints of attraction to me._ L stopped in his tracks, realizing the weight of that statement. He'd already known it, to a certain degree, but now… _Light is attracted to me. Light isn't horrified at the thought of kissing me. And I…I share that attraction, no matter how much I want to deny it. It's possible that the two of us could—_

"No…" L whispered aloud. "No, it won't work…he's Kira, and he thinks I killed one of his friends. And besides, it's not as if I've treated him kindly. He has every right to hate me"

_But…but I want to try._

L shook his head lightly. Before he knew what he was doing, his hands were holding his phone, dialing Watari's number. "Watari," he said, and without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Have you picked up Sayu Yagami?"

_"Not yet. I was planning to move in on the household an hour before the task force is set to depart."_

L breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Watari, delay her capture. I repeat, do _not_ take her in. I need time to…to do something."

_"Ryuzaki? What's wrong?"_

"Nothing is wrong. Something's just come up, and I need time to investigate it further. Light said something—"

_"I heard."_

"O-oh…you were watching."

_"I have been watching most of your interactions."_

"Well…that doesn't change the fact that I need more time. Please delay the capture of Sayu Yagami. I…I still intend to interrogate her, but not just yet. I think I was, ah…moving a bit too fast."

There was a disgruntled sigh. _"I really must protest this, Ryuzaki. Your thoughts have been influenced by this boy far too often and for far too long. You would do well to break all contact."_

"He is my suspect, Watari. I cannot do that."

_"I know. When I told you to break all contact, I meant it in the physical regard. The Yagami boy should not be allowed to see you, or hear your voice without your usual digital filter. I've already told you that you've become far too involved."_

This probably would have been a bad time for L to mention that there was a strong possibility that he'd be keeping Light once this whole mess ended. "My involvement with him is necessary. Fear not, Watari—soon this will be over."

_"…Of course, sir."_

There was a light click as L ended the call. Still leaning against the door, he raised one hand to his head and pressed his cool fingertips to his searing forehead. He felt ill, but he knew it was merely out of emotional turmoil. He was confused, unable to figure out what his next move should be. _I thought it would be a good idea to use Takada like that. I thought that it really might make him confess. But I never thought that he'd react the way he did. I thought I knew that he didn't care about Takada enough to have a meltdown over her, and I thought I knew that he cared just enough to confess for her. Turns out that I don't know Light nearly as much as I think I do. So, then…what should my next move be? I thought that I would do the same thing to Sayu that I did to Takada, but after seeing Light's face, his eyes…I can't do it. Not yet, at least. I need to try something else, one more thing before I resort to killing him like that. And more than anything else, I need to do something about whatever it is going on between the two of us. My own emotions are unbearable enough without knowing that Light is on the other side of the fence right along with me. It's too tempting. If I don't figure something out to keep myself in check, then I'll end up giving in, and it'll all be over._

_But…then again, is that such a bad thing? I've told myself countless times that it wouldn't work, not so long as Light is acting as Kira. But once I catch him and teach him how to use the notebook the right way—my way—the tentative plan is to keep him by my side to supervise him. If he's going to be with me for the rest of his natural life, then what's wrong with attempting to begin a relationship with him? If it doesn't go well, we're both mature enough to put it behind us and remain hospitable towards each other. If I really want to take this path, then there's nothing stopping me but a much-needed confession. Once I get that confession, there will be nothing left to stand between us. It's the road to that confession that's going to be the problem. After all, it'll be a bit hard to get Light to forgive me for 'killing' his friend, even if it's all just a ruse. He'll be furious. He's already furious._

L pushed off the door slowly, making his way down the corridor on unsteady legs. _So that's it, then—that's what I need to do next. I need to get Light to begin to forgive me, and once I've repaired our relationship enough, I need to pretend to kill Sayu. If he trusts me even a little more than he does now, then the blow will fall all the harder. His shock at my actions will unsteady him, and he will be more likely to confess. But it won't work until Light learns to at least somewhat trust me again. And until then…_

The corners of L's mouth turned up slightly, twisting into an ironic smirk. Until then, he would need to spend some time talking to Sayu Yagami.

†††

After giving the task force a new set of instructions, L had Watari relay a message to Sayu asking her to meet him in the same café he'd spent an afternoon talking to Light in. After that, all L had to do was go to the café, sit in that booth that was perfectly secluded from the rest of the customers, and wait.

It didn't take long. Even though it had been last minute, Sayu was apparently more than willing to drop everything to meet the person she knew nothing about. All she'd been told was that someone working with her father wanted to speak with her regarding Light, and that she'd be allowed to ask questions involving Light's location. Questions, L had not added, that he would not answer truthfully.

There was a light jingle as the café door opened, jostling the bells poised to alert the staff whenever someone new walked inside. And then she was there, standing nervously in the doorway. Sayu looked older than she had in her photo, L noted. As she took a step into the café her loose-fitting clothing swirled around her, bouncing with her light, bubbly steps. She seemed, to everyone around her, a perfectly happy young woman. But L knew better. He could see it in her face—the shadows under her eyes, the stiffness of her smile, the slight slump of her shoulders—she was in pain. She missed her brother, presumably, and was struggling to hide her longing. It was no surprise, of course. According to Light, they were very close.

L raised his hand slightly, and Sayu's eyes shot to him immediately. There was a light smile on her face as she strolled over, sliding into the booth under the guise of excitement. "Hey!" she chirped. "I was so excited when you sent that message! Mom and dad said that Light was overseas working as an intern, but I didn't believe them for a second. Light would have said goodbye, or at least called by now."

L gave a shallow nod. "It does seem strange, doesn't it?" In an exact mirror of his earlier conversation with Light, a waitress swept over and asked for their orders. Sayu asked for hot chocolate to combat the cooling weather. L asked for nothing. He wasn't hungry, not even for sweets.

"So," Sayu said once the waitress was gone. "You work with my father, right? What's your name?"

"You can call me Ryuzaki," L murmured. "I'm leading the task force your father is working on currently."

"Great! Then you can tell me where my brother is."

L hesitated. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to tell you that until the end of our conversation. There are a few things I want to ask you before I give up the only leverage I have."

Sayu's features scrunched, and L was immediately aware that she was attempting to work that little sister charm that had wrapped Light around her little finger. "Aww, come on! It can't hurt to tell me now, can it?"

"I cannot tell you until you answer my questions," L insisted firmly. He had already allowed one member of the Yagami family to manipulate him into caring about him, and he didn't need it to happen again. "When I have learned everything I wish to know, I will allow you to ask your questions."

She huffed, crossing her arms, but it was clear that she wasn't truly angry. "Fine, fine…ask away."

_Excellent. Let us begin._ L leaned back in his seat, digging his fingers nervously into the fabric of his pants. "Although I've been telling you that I'm going to ask you _questions,_ there's really only one that I'm going to focus on. It's going to seem strange, but it is very important that you answer them as truthfully as possible. Do you understand?"

Sayu's eyes widened in surprise, but she gave a small nod just the same.

"Good. Now, you just have to answer me, and this will all be over. Sayu…you know your brother better than anyone. I need to know, if he had something to hide, where he would put it."

The young girl frowned immediately, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why do you need to know that? Surely you understand that I can't just give up all of my brother's secrets!"

"So you know something?"

Sayu leaned back, shoulders drawing in as she realized her slip of the tongue. "Well, yeah…I mean, he's my brother! Of course I know a lot about him."

It was time for a well-placed lie. L drew himself forward, leaning his elbows on the table and fixing Sayu with his most serious gaze. "Sayu, I need you to listen to me very carefully—and no matter what, do _not_ repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone else. Unfortunately, your brother has become involved with something far larger than he can handle."

"He…he's in danger?"

There it was—the slight break in her confident tone, the brief hitching of breath…Sayu was scared. "Yes. He's been sucked into our investigation because of something he owns, and I need to find it."

Sayu's expression dropped as a visible wave of realization struck her. "That's why he's gone. Someone's taken him, haven't they?"

"Yes," L lied. Well, _kind of_ lied. After all, he _had_ taken Light away from his family. "Someone has taken him because of that object he's gotten a hold of. He's hidden it somewhere, and because he's been taken, there's no way for me to find it. That's why I've come to you. I put it off as long as I could, I…I didn't want to bring you into it as well. But I have no choice. Unless I find that object soon, I fear that Light may be killed."

"No…" Sayu whispered. "He'll _die?"_

L dipped his head in false sorrow. "I'm sorry, Sayu, but there's nothing more anyone can do until we find that object."

"What is it? What did he find?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not permitted to tell you. The only thing you can do to help both the task force and your brother is tell me where Light could have hidden something he didn't want found. We think it was the last thing he did before he went missing."

"Well…" Sayu said slowly, "I know that he has a false book on his bookshelf, and a false drawer in his desk. How large is this thing you're looking for? If I know that, I might be able to recommend a few places."

"It's a notebook," L disclosed. "More or less."

Light's sister nodded thoughtfully, leaning back. "A loose floorboard."

L blinked. "Pardon?"

"A loose floorboard. I've never seen him use it, but I know there's one in his room with a narrow space underneath. If you jostle it, I'm sure it'll pop right out, and that notebook might be underneath."

_It could be there…it sounds just like something Light would do._ "Is that it?"

"Hmm…like I said, you could check the false drawer and empty book. Other than that, I think the only other place you could check would be underneath the insulation in the attic, or something like that. But I've never seen him hide anything there."

"Sayu, this is _very_ important. Are you certain that there isn't anywhere else he could have hidden it?" L had already checked the desk and the book, and his men had searched _everywhere—_ even under the insulation and between the pages of all the books. The only place that hadn't been checked was beneath the floorboards—incidentally, one of the places that Sayu said the notebook could be. "If you're wrong about this, and Light has hidden it somewhere else, he will most likely be killed."

The gravity of the situation was visible on Sayu's face, and it remained there even as the waitress whisked by to drop off a cup of hot chocolate—a cup that remained untouched. "I can't think of anything else, Ryuzaki. I'm sorry."

"I see…tell me, Sayu, is your mother home at the moment?"

"No, she's out to lunch with some friends."

"I see. Then will you allow me to search under the floorboards for the object now?"

She looked apprehensive for only a moment before agreeing. "If it will help Light, then you can do whatever you like."

L nodded appreciatively. "You have my thanks." He tossed a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover Sayu's hot chocolate. "I will leave for the house now, but you do not have to accompany me. In fact, I would rather do this alone."

"Yeah…yeah, okay. I'll stay here for a while and you can go search the house. Is that okay?"

"That will be quite agreeable, thank you." L got to his feet, offering Sayu a grateful nod before slipping into the outside world. Watari was waiting for him outside in the car, and with his help it took only a few minutes to get to the house of the Yagami family.

"Did you learn anything of importance?" Watari asked politely.

"There may be something under the floorboards in Light's room," L responded, though his mind resided elsewhere. He wondered how Light was doing, trapped alone in that tiny cell. He felt a twinge of guilt as he realized that whatever the teen was feeling, whatever pain he was in, it was because of him. _I'll make it up to him, beginning as soon as I get a confession. And if I find the Death Note under those floorboards, then I can use its existence as leverage to force a confession. Everything rides on this—everything._

Watari gave a clipped nod. "Very well. I will wait for you here."

Without answering, L exited the car and ascended the steps to the Yagami household. The door was open, rather unwisely, allowing the detective to slip inside without a second thought. It was eerily quiet inside. Instead of the lively, warm household L had spent a week observing, the entire place felt lifeless and cold. His footsteps echoed unsettlingly on the wooden flooring as he walked further inside, heading without hesitation to the stairs. It took a matter of moments to reach Light's door, which remained closed.

_Funny,_ L thought forlornly, fingers resting on the handle. _It isn't lowered like it normally is, and I bet the pencil lead trap inside is nowhere to be found, just like last time. It's strange, coming here to find all of Light's traps undone._ L pulled open the door, half expecting to see something horrific within. But all he saw was the same room as always, darkened slightly from the closed blinds. "A loose floorboard…" he murmured, tracing his foot over the wooden flooring as he moved inward. "Where is it?" His toes drug over the seam of one of the board, but there was no give. He walked further and further, brushing over the wooden planks, searching for the slight wobble that would signify a loose board.

He couldn't find it.

Frowning deeply, L double-checked everything. Sure enough, he didn't feel anything like a loose board. Had Sayu been lying to protect her brother?

"Damn it!" L hissed, briefly losing his composure in the face of such irritation. His foot swept across the floor, slamming into one of the bedposts furiously. The entire bed rattled—and something else did as well. Eyes narrowing, L examined the source of the unusual noise. He nudged the bedpost again with his toes. Then, when nothing gave, he kicked it harder.

There it was again—a brief rattle, unlike the dull thunk of the bedpost.

L dropped to one knee, fingers brushing over the ground. And then, to his surprise, he felt it—a raised edge on the ground, a rough chip taken out of the floorboard under the bedpost. L's heart skipped a beat, and the next moment he was leaning his full weight on the bedpost until it shifted. _The post is loose,_ he realized. _It's loose enough to shift a full six inches to the left, leaving all its weight off the floorboard beneath. And once that floorboard is exposed…_

L dug his fingernails into the crease between the floorboards and pulled with all his might. And to his relief, it gave. The board lifted upwards, groaning in protest as it was wrenched upwards. But it _did_ lift, and in a matter of moments L was sitting with the floorboard in hand and an empty compartment before him.

It looked like the compartment had been hollowed out by hand. L cast the floorboard aside and dropped his fingers to the interior, brushing along the walls. It was very narrow and very small, and it had obviously been carved out with something quite sharp. Light had worked hard to create this hiding place, but what had he placed there? L narrowed his eyes, hoping to see a black cover with white lettering. But instead, he found only the gray concrete of the compartment's interior. The detective drew his fingertips along the edges, hoping to find an additional seam, but there was nothing. Nothing except for a small scrap of binder paper, nearly invisible to the eye. L placed a finger upon it, sticking it to the pad of his finger as he raised it from the compartment. He studied it critically. _Could it be a scrap of paper from the Death Note? It's too small to write a name on, so there's no real way to be sure. However, if Light has a shinigami following him around and this is a piece of the Death Note, I should be able to see it now._ L removed a folded plastic bag from his pocket. It was perfectly sized to hold the Death Note, but now it would serve a different purpose. L tucked the miniscule scrap of paper into the bag and returned it to his pocket. If it turned out that this was a scrap of the Death Note, then he would use it to let the task force see the shinigami. Once they saw him, they would have no choice but to believe that Light was guilty of using the Death Note to murder criminals.

_It's a start,_ L thought grimly. _But I don't have enough time to sit around and wait for a shinigami to show up, especially if this is just a regular scrap of binder paper. If I'm lucky, I'll go back to headquarters and see the shinigami hanging around Light. But just in case, I need to look around more. There has to be something I'm missing. He has a Death Note, it's just a matter of figuring out where he's hidden it. There's always a chance that he's given it to his shinigami, but knowing Light, he hasn't made it that simple. It's here somewhere, I can feel it._

L placed the floorboard back in place and moved the bedpost back over it. He pushed himself to his feet, turning slowly in a circle, observing the room. Where would Light have hidden something? He would have chosen somewhere that no one knew about, that no one suspected. He knew the most common places to hide things, and would certainly avoid them. That meant that wherever the Death Note was, it was incredibly well hidden.

The detective strolled over to the window, yanking open the blinds. The sunlight from outside streamed in dully, partially hidden by the clouds. _Where could it be?_ L traced his fingers up the side of the window, almost hoping to find another seam that he could exploit. When that didn't work, he trained his gaze on the outside, half expecting to see some grand sign outside the window pointing to the Death Note. But instead, all he saw was the fence separating Light's house from the forest.

Wait…the forest?

L straightened, staring out into the forest with new purpose. The forest was where Light had been spending a lot of time before he was captured. He'd disappeared there almost every night for quite a while, and L had even followed him once to find out what he was doing. He'd been playing chess against himself that time, but was it possible that he'd been doing something else on the other nights? Perhaps he was using the forest as cover to write in the Death Note. And if that was true…

"It's in the forest," L realized in a whisper. "It's not in the house, it's out there!" He stepped even closer to the window, expression one of awe and wonderment. He felt as if he'd found the Rosetta Stone, the missing link that connected all the pieces that had been plaguing him for what felt like years. And just like that, L was turning around and dashing for the front door. He exited the house in a whirlwind and took off for the forest, clearing the fence in a matter of seconds before charging off into the greenery. His feet placed themselves heavily on the path, winding further and further into the forest until he reached the place where he remembered Light exiting the path and heading off in his own direction. L followed that direction, as he had all that time ago, scrambling over fallen branches and slogging through murky puddles. The clearing, the one Light loved so much—it was here.

When L broke the circle of trees, stumbling into the clearing, everything went silent. The birds and insects fell silent as if they were watching him, understanding that he was an intruder in this place. He didn't belong, and the silence was screaming for him to leave. But he couldn't—and so instead of turning tail, L began to pick his way towards the massive fallen tree in the center of the clearing. This was where Light had spent so much time. If the Death Note was really in Light's possession, if it was really hidden…it would be here.

L started at the base of the tree. He shoved his nose close to the trunk and squinted, examining the thing at an incredibly close range. He expected there to be a seam of some kind where Light had carved out a compartment, or a patch of upturned earth… _anything_ that would give away the notebook's location. He moved an inch at a time, running his palms across the rotting wood, shuffling his feet over the earth in search of loose soil. When he reached the end of one side, he climbed atop the tree and studied the surface. And when even that failed, he leapt to the other side and began the same process anew. But it wasn't until the end of that side that he found something—a narrow seam, barely visible, certainly well hidden. He wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't used his fingers to feel for it. But he _had_ used his fingers, and now he was digging his nails into the seam, pulling slightly. To his surprise, the tree crumbled beneath his fingers. It must have been very old to be so rotted, so easily torn away.

In a few minutes L managed to clear the last of the wood away, and he was left with a sloppily carved compartment. But to his disappointment, there was no Death Note to be found. Instead, there was a very familiar looking box, torn and battered with age. A chessboard.

L removed the box from tree and opened it, just to be sure nothing was stashed inside. But sure enough, an innocent game of chess was the only thing to be found within. It seemed that Light had hidden the Death Note somewhere else in the forest.

_I was certain it would be here,_ L thought bitterly, kicking at the tree as if he would find a compartment like the one under the floorboards in doing so. _Where did you hide it, Light?_

The detective continued to look for the notebook for a countless amount of time, scouring the clearing time and time again in hopes of unearthing the notebook. He even dared to explore slightly beyond the clearing, thinking that Light may have hidden the Death Note somewhere just outside the circle of trees. But no matter where he looked, no matter how hard he searched, he found nothing. If Light had indeed hidden the Death Note here—and L was almost certain that he had—then he had outsmarted him in its location.

Several hours later the sun was beginning to lap at the horizon, and L knew that it was time to leave. The task force hadn't seen him all day, and they were no doubt becoming concerned by now. L had to be there.

And so L, with only a scrap of questionable notebook paper to show for his efforts, turned around and headed for headquarters.

†††

In the several hours L had been gone, Light had decided that he hated him. Completely, absolutely hated him. The bastard had killed one of his friends, mentally antagonized him, and left him mere moments after what was probably the most monumental confession of his life. He'd never told anyone what he'd told L, though he knew that it had been at least partially obvious—and so for the detective to have turned around and fled a moment later had been a terrible blow to the teen's pride. He _knew_ that L was attracted to him, how could he not be? Light knew that he was the first genius L had ever been in close contact with, and that the detective was severely effected by such a thing. He'd tried to _kiss_ him, for god's sake! After that, after seeing L act so gently towards him, Light had almost believed that he had something of a heart. Despite himself, Light had convinced himself that he _cared_ about the bastard! L was the first person he'd met that was anywhere near his level, and he wanted to be able to talk to him normally, spend time with him as a friend, or…or something more.

But then, just as the thought entered his mind, it had all come crashing down. L had taken him from the cell and forced him to watch, unable to do a thing to stop it, as Takada had been killed. L had murdered someone he cared about—and even though he didn't particularly enjoy Takada's company, to kill her in such a way was just _wrong_ —and so watching Takada die had affected Light in a way that he never could have expected.

"I hate him," he rasped aloud, hoping no one was listening. "I…hate him."

But even as he said it, there was something lingering deep within him that refused to allow it. _He thinks he's doing the world good,_ a voice whispered gently. _He believes that by sacrificing one life—Takada's life—in order to gain a confession, he can save all of Kira's 'innocent' victims. But it didn't work. L didn't get me to confess, because I feel the same way that he does—if it comes down to being forced to let Takada die or giving up the notebook and allowing criminals to run rampant, I have no choice but to embrace the former. Sacrificing one innocent life for the sake of the world…I don't like it, but I refuse to confess because of it. He can kill whoever he likes; I cannot confess. If I confess, then this world loses someone who is willing to do whatever it takes for justice. And…and I can't completely hate L for doing it. I want to hate him. I want to hate him with my entire being. But knowing that he's doing this to better the world…it's exactly like something I would have done, if I were in his position. How can I despise him entirely when I would have had the same idea? I'm no hypocrite. I know that I should feel something—anger, frustration, sadness—because of what he's done. But all those emotions have already faded to be replaced by something far more concerning—admiration._

Light's whole form shook as that single word filled his mind. He felt sick. How could he feel something so awful after watching L do something so vile? How could he admire the man that had killed Takada? She had been _innocent._ But still, it was for the greater good. L had killed with purpose, just like him.

_Despite what he's done, I still admire him. I still wish to speak with him, share our intelligence for the sake of the world as a whole. I still want to be beside him. I hated him—and I tried to hate him—and I've failed._

Light closed his eyes hard, pressing the back of his head into his pillow. He hated his own emotions, hated that they refused to listen to logic. He was an idiot, he had to be—because if he was in any way normal, he wouldn't feel anything but hatred for the person who had done this to him.

A sudden click cut off Light's thoughts, and his eyes were drawn to the entrance to the cell as the door slid open. Not so surprisingly, it was L who was standing in the doorway.

"Ryuzaki," Light greeted flatly, forcing away the thoughts of mere moments ago. "Here to kill another one of my friends?"

The detective's teeth visibly clenched, his whole form stiffening. He almost appeared uncomfortable, apologetic.

_Don't apologize,_ Light thought silently. _I would have done the same thing._ But he refused to say it, refused to make L feel better. After everything the bastard had put him through, there was a large part of him that wanted him to suffer.

"It's two in the morning," L informed him, much to his surprise. "The task force has just gone home. I was only with them for five hours today, but it seems that their progress is swift. They are gathering what will eventually be damning evidence for you."

"I see. Then I'm sure that when they're done, they will be able to identify Kira."

For a moment, there was no response. Then, "I went somewhere today."

"Oh?"

"I brought something for you."

Now that he mentioned it, Light could see something held behind L's back. "A present, Ryuzaki? For me? You shouldn't have."

"Such cynical sarcasm for one so young," L murmured. He removed the dark object from behind his back, and to his surprise, Light saw that it was a chessboard. A very familiar chessboard.

"You got that from the clearing. Is that where you disappeared to today?"

"It is."

Light watched silently as L approached the bed, sitting upon it and removing the board from the box. The teen felt a stab of relief that he'd kept the board and the notebook in two different locations, each one hidden well. The notebook was safe, he knew—if L hadn't said anything about it yet, it meant that he hadn't found it.

L had finished setting up the board. The pieces were all in place, leaning slightly from resting upon the uneven surface of the cot. "Nothing remains for me to do today. If you would like to play a game…?"

The ice in Light's heart melted slightly, but that pang of frustration was still there. Was L just going to ignore what had happened earlier? Was he going to pretend that he hadn't stormed out after Light's confession? "Sure," he said in a perfectly controlled tone. "Let's play."

L stared silently for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and picked up a pawn. But instead of placing it down again, he held it gently in his palm, staring down at it.

"Ryuzaki?" Light questioned, slightly concerned. "Are you…?"

"I have never had to apologize to anyone before, Light."

And just like that, all traces of frustration melted away, to be replaced with wonder. "Ryuzaki—"

He jerked his head away sharply, pawn still closed in his hand. Light was beginning to suspect that the game was only an excuse to talk to him. "I've never genuinely apologized to anyone but you," he continued. "I've never had to, and I'd never have known how to phrase it. And I've especially never had to apologize for anything as serious as…well, as what happened."

"You killed Takada. You killed my friend."

L refused to raise his head. "I did."

"And you're apologizing for it."

The detective winced, his whole face contorting painfully. "I…I am."

"What do you think this changes, exactly? Do you think you can just sit back and say, 'oh, I'm sorry I killed one of your only friends, but you should still forgive me,' and everything will be fine?"

"Well…I was hoping that yes, that would be the case."

In his heart, Light didn't care. He'd cried for Takada, yes, out of shock and frustration. But in the end, he understood why L had done what he had, and he couldn't accept him apologizing for it. "I hate you," he lied.

Silence. Then, softly, "I don't think you do. Not really."

"Is that so?"

More silence. "We're equals."

"So? What does it matter?"

Light secretly loved the expression of agonized confusion on his companion's face. L was always so confident, so committed to his actions—it was sadistically satisfying to see him so uncertain. "I…I suppose I thought that you would understand."

L had placed the pawn down. And Light, in response, took one of his own pawns in hand. He kept his eyes on the tiny wooden object, rolling it between his fingers. "I do understand," he murmured, reaching out, the soft click of wood striking wood filling the cell.

"Then why are you so upset? If you understand, then—"

"You killed someone. I understand why you did it, and I would have done the same if I were in your position. But that doesn't mean I'm pleased with what's occurred." And that, at least, was true. "Ryuzaki…are we going to ignore what happened?"

"Nothing happened," L responded immediately. His expression remained completely neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Light took in a deep breath, ignoring the slight shake to his next words. "I confessed to you. You ran."

"It was not the confession I was looking for."

"But why did you run? I've never told anyone what I told you, Ryuzaki, surely you realize that. And the instant I tell you, you turn and run. How do you think that looks to me?"

L suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I apologize for that. You caught me off guard, that's all. I didn't expect you to give me that sort of confession."

Light almost blushed. Almost. "You want to know why I'm upset? I'm upset because you ran. I'm upset because you left without so much as a kind word."

"I am not here to be kind to you, Light. I am your interrogator, your captor—not your friend."

The teen laughed, "But you are my friend. You want to be more than my friend. You've made that perfectly clear."

"I fail to understand what you mean."

Light watched the detective out of the corner of his eye, making sure his head was tilted towards the board. "Don't play dumb, Ryuzaki. We both know what happened, and we both know what it means."

"It means nothing. I can't feel anything for my primary suspect."

"But you do." There was a spike of apprehension in Light's chest, a flicker of excitement. If L really felt something for him, then he may be able to use it to his advantage. _But…I don't want that. I just want…_

"I won't feel anything for Kira!"

Light's heart skipped a beat. "Won't."

"Pardon?"

"You said 'won't' that time."

L's features twisted into an expression of fury, but in a single moment it was gone, replaced with exhaustion. "I'm tired, Light. Let's not play word games."

"You're running again."

"I am not running!" L spat. "I don't run from anything!"

"No…" Light responded gently, keeping his posture calm and relaxed. "I suppose you wouldn't. So why are you running from this?"

L's lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. His fingers clenched in the fabric of his pants, twisting until they turned pale from lack of blood flow. "I know that you are Kira."

"That's beside the point. You tried to kiss me before, and I'm sure you're frustrated that you couldn't follow through. And you know what, Ryuzaki? I didn't care. I didn't care that you were about to kiss me, so why the hell do you care so much? And _don't_ keep saying it's because of Kira."

L gnashed his teeth, his entire body impossibly tense. "And what if I don't care? What's the point?"

"I suppose the point is whatever you want it to be, isn't it?" Light leaned forward slightly, fingers pressing on the edge of the chessboard. "Tell me, Ryuzaki—what _is_ the point?"

"The point?" L murmured. His eyes, dark and intense, stared up at Light through a curtain of dark hair. "Saving you, of course."

Whatever Light had been expecting, that wasn't it. "Saving… _me?_ " he echoed dumbly.

"Of course. You are Kira, Light. I'm certain of it. And I'm going to save you from him."

"You can't save me from something that I _am_ , assuming you're right," Light muttered.

L ignored him, fingers closing around another chess piece. He moved it forward, but Light wasn't paying any more attention than he was. "The first thing I'll need is a confession, of course. After that I will be able to convict you, sentencing you with an appropriate punishment."

"Death?" Light asked bitterly.

"The point is saving you, not killing you. No, Light—when I sentence you, I will do it in a way that assures that you will spend the remainder of your days working with me."

The wave of shock that washed over Light was incomparable. He found himself frozen, completely unable to comprehend the gravity of the detective's words. "You want me to stay…with you?"

"Of course. I will teach you how to work for justice without killing those who don't deserve it."

_I'm not killing those who don't deserve it,_ Light almost said—but at the last moment he bit back the words, realizing that saying them would be confessing. But then again…if L only intended to keep him by his side, would it be so bad to confess? He already knew that he was strangely drawn to L. He hadn't minded their close proximity the previous night, and he hadn't complained in the slightest when he'd tried to kiss him. He'd already told L more about himself than anyone else, and he knew that the detective was his only intellectual equal. Would it be so terrible to spend his time working with him rather than joining the NPA and being surrounded by people like Matsuda for the rest of his life? "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" he rasped. "If…if I had anything to confess, then I might have done it before you killed Takada."

"I hadn't decided," L murmured. "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't entirely certain that that was what I wanted to do until this moment. But now I'm sure. If you confess, then you have my word that I will not have you executed. You will come with me as a prisoner, yes, but you will be treated as an equal."

"No more cells?" Light joked. "No more being bound to beds?"

"I will not lock you up. And if you are bound to a bed, then I assure you it will not be for malicious purposes."

Light's eyes snapped up to meet the detective's, uncertain if he'd heard correctly. "I'm sorry, did you just—?"

L cut him off, a light smile on his lips. "The point is, if you confess, you will be safe."

_It sounds nice,_ Light admitted. _But I know that it must be too good to be true. There's no way he's telling the truth. There has to be some kind of trick._ "I'm not Kira," he said carefully. "But let me give you some advice—if you do happen to find Kira, and you give him the same offer, then I'm fairly certain that you'll need to prove that you're serious before he'll even think about confessing. After all, for all he knows you're lying to him."

"So I need to prove it?" L asked softly, eyes on the chessboard. "Before you confess, I have to show you that I'm not playing a trick?"

"Like I said, I'm not Kira—but if I was, that's what I'd want, yes."

L raised a brow. "Very well. I suppose I'll have to work on that, then." He gestured to the board vaguely. "It's your turn, you know."

"I don't think the game is our top priority," Light said with a smirk, amused at L's attempt at redirecting the conversation. "And anyways, I wasn't done. What I was going to say was that if you really wanted to prove to Kira that you were serious, then you could start by telling the truth."

"And what does that entail? What do you think I was lying about?"

"Your identity, _Ryuzaki._ I know you're not who you say you are."

The detective's eye twitched. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then I suppose you're not serious."

Light watched, barely masking his amusement, as L's expression twisted into one of immense irritation. "I am not L. No matter what you do to make me confess, it won't work because _I am not L_."

The teen smirked. _Hypocrite._ "That's funny, Ryuzaki. I could say the same to you about me being Kira."

"That's hardly fair to—!"

Light cut him off with a well-placed chuckle, insisting, "Oh no, Ryuzaki, you don't get to talk to me about fair. I _know_ you're L, just like you _know_ I'm Kira. And until you admit it and tell me your true identity, I'm not going to take your little claim about keeping Kira by your side seriously."

The disbelief on L's face was nothing short of hilarious. He shot to his feet, upsetting their nearly untouched game of chess. Light simply stared, fighting back a laugh at the flush on his companion's cheeks.

"You want me to be serious, Light?" L demanded in a low tone.

"It would be nice, yes," the teen responded airily.

L moved almost too fast for Light to track with his eyes. But even though he couldn't see the movement, he _could_ feel it—because when L moved, he moved towards him and wrapped his hands around his wrists.

"Ryuzaki!" Light hissed, alarmed.

The detective didn't respond. The hands around Light's wrists tightened like vices, and before he had a chance to say anything further, L was moving again. He rose to his knees on the bed, the game of chess completely falling aside, and pushed forward. Light's arms, either unable or unwilling to hold his companion at bay, buckled immediately—and without a second thought L was pushing him back until his head struck the pillow, looming over him menacingly.

"Ryuzaki!" Light repeated, staring up at him through wide eyes. He didn't like how the situation had been flipped—just a moment ago he'd felt as if he had all the power. But now here he was, stretched out on his back beneath the person he was trying to outsmart. "What are you doing?"

"You wanted me to be serious," L said, all hints of humor absent from his expression. "This is me being serious." His grip tightened, pushing Light firmly back against the pillows. His head dipped slightly, bringing his face startlingly close. Light was reminded suddenly of the previous night, and his stomach turned with something in between anticipation and fear. His eyes were incredibly close—so close that no matter which way Light turned, all he could see was obsidian.

"Come on, Ryuzaki," Light said nervously. "Stop joking."

The detective pressed the length of his body into the bed—and since Light's body was currently trapped in between him and the bed, the teen suddenly found himself in extreme proximity to his companion. He could feel it all—the gentle curve of L's lithe form, the tensing of even the smallest muscle—and just like the previous night, he found himself straining upwards, fleeing towards the detective rather than away from him. "Light…" L breathed. "I am completely serious when I ask you to confess. Even more so when I tell you that when you do, I will protect you."

Light swallowed hard, and he was certain L could feel it. "I don't believe you. Not after what you've done."

The detective's eyes were narrowed to slits, a fearsome expression overtaking him. "Then I'll prove how serious I am." And just like that, the distance between them closed—but unlike the previous night, L didn't stop until there was no space remaining between them.

It took a moment for Light to realize just what was happening. But when he finally regained his ability to feel, to comprehend, he wasn't disappointed. L's lips were surprisingly soft, but firm and unyielding as they pressed against his. The detective's nails dug into Light's wrists, as if afraid that he would attempt to pull away. But Light had no such intentions. Rather, he pressed forward, attempting to free one hand purely for the purpose of snaking it around the back of L's neck. When he finally managed to get his hand free, L's entire form tensed, as if afraid that he would strike him. But when the detective felt Light's fingers brush the back of his neck gently rather than clawing abusively, every muscle relaxed.

L drew back after a few short seconds. It had been a light kiss, shallow, a mere press of lips—but he seemed stunned, breathing hard, as if he couldn't believe that he'd done it. Light, on the other hand, felt exhilarated. A surge of excitement coursed through him, setting his hair on end as he stared up into the dark eyes of the most powerful man in the world.

"Do you believe me now?" L breathed, staying as close as was physically possible.

Light hesitated. "I believe that you're attracted to me," he said carefully. "Nothing more, nothing less."

The detective's expression didn't change. "Are you telling me that I need to kiss you again?"

Smirking, Light responded, "No, I'm telling you that you need to tell me who you really are. Kissing you is nice, don't get me wrong, but it's not going to make me eager to confess to a crime I didn't commit." He leaned up slightly, bringing the two of them even closer. But then his expression darkened, and he bit out, "And don't expect me to just fall into your waiting arms! You murdered Takada—and for that I cannot forgive you, even if you were to confess."

L drew back slowly, a pensive expression on his face. His fingers uncurled from Light's wrists, leaving tiny red marks from where the nails had broken the skin. "I can't confess to being someone I'm not."

"Then we understand each other."

There was a long period of silence in which the two simply stared at each other, emotion raw and unchecked in their eyes. But it had to end, as all things did—and sure enough, in a matter of minutes L was silently pushing to his feet and heading for the door. He reached out with one hand, opening the door—and then he paused. He whirled around, crossing the room in two steps—and then he was reaching out, grabbing Light by the arms and dragging him up, slamming their lips together once again in a short but fierce display that Light didn't even have a chance to react to.

"You will confess," L promised, still holding Light close. "And when you do, we will work together to make the world a better place the _right_ way."

And Light, never one to back down from a challenge, tilted his head to one side playfully. "Good luck with that, Ryuzaki."

L scowled. But there was nothing else to say, and in a few moments he was gone, leaving Light to his thoughts.


	19. Jera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support! You guys are awesome!

The following morning, L walked into the investigation room in a daze. The events of the previous night felt surreal, as if they had never occurred—and time and time again L found himself silently reliving the hour he'd spent with Light, making sure that it had, in fact, happened. The resulting realization—that it _had_ happened, that he _had_ kissed Light, that he _had_ gotten a positive response from the teen—threw the detective deeper and deeper into a stunned stupor.

But the moment he walked into the investigation room, that stupor vanished just as swiftly as it had come upon him.

"Ryuzaki!" Soichiro burst out, shooting to his feet the instant the dark-haired detective was within sight. "Something has occurred that we believe you should see."

L's heart sank. What could possibly have happened? "Very well, Mr. Yagami. What is it?"

Soichiro gestured to his computer, saying, "Sakura TV has apparently received a series of tapes regarding Kira, and they're airing them now. The broadcast just started."

_The tapes!_ L's mind went blank momentarily as he realized his mistake. _I've been so worried about getting a confession from Light that I've been ignoring the most powerful weapon I have—the story written in the Death Note. I knew that those tapes were coming, I should have set up a method of interception! How could I have been so foolish? If I'd just checked back on that story to see what would happen next, then all this could have been avoided._ "The second Kira has arrived," the detective murmured.

"…Second Kira, Ryuzaki?"

"I'll explain later." L turned his head, calling out, "Watari, bring me two more televisions and set them to Sakura TV." He was merely going through the motions now; he knew exactly what was going to happen. But this time he wasn't going to let those tapes get far enough to do any damage. He was going to stop the second Kira from ever seeing Light's face, let alone exchanging words with him.

"Come over here," Soichiro suggested, gesturing across the room, where the rest of the task force was standing in front of a television. "We're watching the first few minutes of the broadcast."

L obeyed only for the sake of appearances. The broadcast was saying the exact same thing that he knew it would be saying—nonsense about Kira being justice, saving the world from evil…the works.

Watari entered the room silently, bringing with him two more TVs. "Anything else?" he asked quietly.

L didn't spare him even a glance. "Prepare the car. We will be going to Sakura TV."

The task force overheard. "What?" Matsuda gasped, eyes comically wide. "Ryuzaki, you can't be serious! The broadcast said that if anyone interferes, the entire cast will be killed by Kira!"

"I know," L said grimly.

"You can't just let innocent people die!" Matsuda insisted. "That makes you no better than Kira!"

"Matsuda is right," Aizawa broke in gruffly. "It's our job to save people, not get them killed. If letting Kira broadcast his message to the public is all it takes to save a few dozen people working at Sakura TV, then we need to let him do it."

L resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their incompetence. They didn't understand the weight of the situation. They didn't know the future, what would happen if Kira was allowed to air these tapes. They didn't know that once the first and second Kiras met up, everything would be come exponentially more difficult. Those takes had to be procured _now,_ before the second Kira could do any damage. "And the rest of you?" L asked stiffly. "Do you agree with this?"

Soichiro asserted, "We cannot allow those people to be killed because of us."

Mogi nodded shortly in agreement, though he said nothing.

"So you're all in agreement," L observed. "I'm outvoted."

"You are," Soichiro said. "We will stay here and watch the tapes, and then we will decide what to do next."

_Funny,_ L thought bitterly, _I thought that_ I _was the one calling the shots here, not Soichiro. And yet here he is, dictating our next moves._ The detective inched backward a bit at a time, extracting himself from the task force subtly. In their awe at what was happening on the television, not a single member of the task force noticed his departure. And so L, still keeping his footfalls quiet, slid from the room and into the hallway beyond.

"They're all a bunch of fools," the detective murmured, making his way towards the elevator. He jabbed his finger at the elevator's control panel, waiting until the silver doors slid open to step inside. _It doesn't matter what they vote on—I am the leader of the task force, and I will decide what we do. And right now, I've decided that those tapes are going off the air, no matter what. I don't care if every single one of those worms over at Sakura TV is killed so long as those tapes are destroyed. It's for the greater good. It's for justice._

" _Ryuzaki?"_ a familiar voice echoed from the intercom installed in the elevator. " _Just what do you think you're doing?"_

"I'm going to get those tapes, Watari," L answered. _I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now. You need to let me do this and leave me alone._

" _The team has voted to do nothing about the tapes,"_ Watari insisted. _"Are you really going to undermine the vote?"_

L forced back the vicious response that was clinging to the tip of his tongue. "I am going to do what is necessary to defeat Kira. I am confident that I can bring this whole mess to an end within a few months—but in order to do that, I need to stop those tapes from reaching the public."

There was a generous pause. The elevator slowed slightly as it neared the basement, and L knew that soon it would be too late for Watari to do anything to stop him. " _Ryuzaki,"_ the inventor went on, _"I am growing concerned with this recent behavior of yours. You've never shown much interest in going into the field yourself, and now here you are, not only ignoring the majority vote of the task force, but putting yourself in danger."_

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the car garage that had been built in to a level of the basement. L took a step out.

_"Ryuzaki! Stop this at once!"_

L gave no response. Instead, he headed to the nearest car and hopped inside, finding the keys in the glove compartment and turning it on. There was a faint echo of Watari's voice from outside the car, and L knew that the inventor was still attempting to use the intercom to communicate with him. But it was far too late to convince him to halt his righteous mission. Without so much as a word, L slammed the gas pedal to the ground, and a minute later he was on his way to Sakura TV.

†††

As L neared Sakura TV headquarters, the question became how he was going to enter the building without alerting the second Kira—who was, according to the notebook, poised somewhere nearby with a pair of binoculars. L would have loved to search the area for the second Kira, but he knew that his first priority had to be getting those tapes off the air. He could not allow the public to see them, could not let them begin to sympathize with Kira.

L had reached the Sakura TV headquarters. It was right in front of him, the glass panes that made up the front door glittering in the dull light of the street lamps. Now…how to enter? L smirked. He knew _exactly_ how to enter the building—and with his plan kept firmly in mind, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and went flying through the glass doors.

The resulting shards showered the entrance hall in a tornado of razor sharp glass. The car, now lodged halfway through the massive doors and bursting through the surrounding wall, was the only thing protecting L from being severely injured by the storm. The detective waited only a moment, until most of the shards struck the ground, before he launched himself out of the car. The second Kira wouldn't be able to see his face—but just in case, he snatched a police helmet from the car and shoved it over his head. After that, it was easy. He snatched up the gun from the police gear stashed in the vehicle (as was common issue for all of his vehicles), made sure it was loaded, and stormed off towards the newsroom, where the broadcast was taking place.

It didn't take long. L burst into the room where the broadcast was taking place, and without taking even a moment to assess the situation, he unloaded the contents of the gun into every piece of equipment he could see. The result was chaotic—sparks flew, surprised screams sounded from the staff—and most importantly, the blinking red light that signaled the show was being broadcast clicked off. L had succeeded. The broadcast was over before it had truly begun.

"You're crazy!" someone screamed—someone L recognized as the reporter who had been introducing the first tape, which hadn't had the chance to air. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Don't worry," L said, though he knew his words weren't very assuring. "I'm with the NPA."

" _You're_ with the NPA?" another employee demanded in disbelief. "There's no way; the NPA doesn't just go around shooting things!"

Without a spark of hesitation, L swung his gun (now empty, though the staff of Sakura TV didn't need to know that) up to face the main reporter.

The nameless reporter's eyes widened in fear—but as L expected, neither he nor anyone around him did anything to stop him from holding a gun on the poor man. "W-what are you doing?" he demanded.

"The tapes," L said simply. "The NPA is taking them into custody. Give them to me immediately."

The reporter shook his head desperately. "You destroyed them! You shot straight through the machine that was playing them!"

L tensed his finger on the trigger meaningfully. "I know that you've made copies. Tell me where they are."

"But Kira will kill us if we give them to you!"

"No. The deal was that if you aired the tapes without interruption, Kira would leave you alone. But that didn't happen, now, did it? So no matter what you do now, you're going to die. At least if you hand the tapes over to me, you'll have done at least one good thing before your death."

"You…you can't seriously expect—!"

L took a minute step forward, asserting, "I'm completely serious. Either you give me the tapes, or your deaths will be for nothing."

The reporter shook his head, expression twisting furiously. He opened his mouth, no doubt about to begin snapping at the man holding a gun on him—but before he could, someone else spoke up.

"The tapes are right here," called someone who looked like an intern. The young man approached cautiously, holding out a stack of several tapes.

L took the tapes immediately, gun never swaying, thankful that at least _someone_ valued their life over the ratings that these tapes would bring. The instant the tapes were secure under one arm he began to step back, still holding the gun to assure no one attempted to get the tapes back. But then, just as he reached the doorway, everyone in the recording studio froze.

The reporter was the first to go. His hand shot to his chest, and L immediately knew what had happened. Sure enough, a moment later he was falling to the ground, heart no longer functioning. And a moment after that, the other employees followed. There were only ten people in the station—and in a matter of seconds, all of them were dead.

L stared down at the scene, feeling a mixture of surprise, guilt, and apathy. _Well…this certainly didn't happen in the story written in the notebook. I wonder how this will change things._ A soft buzz drew L from his thoughts, and he realized that his phone was ringing. It was Watari, no doubt—and because L was tired of dealing with him, because he needed to leave _now,_ the detective ignored it and turned around, leaving the massacre behind him as he walked back down the hallway to the entrance. He was not afraid. He had his helmet, and he knew that the second Kira was useless if she couldn't see his face. Assuming, of course, that she'd taken the shinigami eyes—which he assumed that she had.

L was back in the entrance hall in record time. A moment later he wrenched the door of the car back open, and a moment after that he was sitting in the seat, the tapes stacked on the seat adjacent to him. He turned the car on and put it in reverse, and for the second time that day, his foot slammed on the gas. The car rocketed from the inside of the building, and a gear change and a wrench of the steering wheel later, L was driving back to headquarters as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just disobeyed the majority vote of the task force. As if he hadn't just let innocent people die.

_I need to take another look at my notebook when I get back,_ L thought, swerving around the cars around him in an attempt to get back to headquarters as fast as possible. _I need to reevaluate and take everything it says into account. If I'd done that in the first place, this never would have happened. I could have gotten the tapes before the public ever knew about them. Who knows what else I've missed because I wasn't careful enough in examining the notebook? If this has taught me anything, it's that I need to read over what's going to happen—and I need to take it seriously._

†††

Upon returning to headquarters, the first thing L did was hand off the tapes to Watari for forensic analysis. Next, he ducked his caretaker's chastising speech and headed in to talk to the task force.

"I went to retrieve the tapes," he said simply, and as expected, there was much resistance. But all of that stopped when L said simply, "When I got there, there were ten employees already dead. No one was left breathing, and the tapes were sitting out on the table, as if someone left them for us. So you see, no matter what we did, they would have died. But this way we have the tapes, and with any luck, a bit more evidence."

"Evidence of what, exactly?" Soichiro cut in furiously. "Listen, Ryuzaki, there's something I've been meaning to bring up—"

L knew what he would say before he ever had the chance to say it. "If Light is Kira, and if he has been under surveillance here without reprieve, how could he have made and sent in those tapes?"

"Exactly," Soichiro said, sounding relieved. "I'm glad you agree that—"

"No, Mr. Yagami. I do not agree. Earlier in the investigation, I made reference to a second Kira. I believe that a this second Kira made those tapes."

Now it was Aizawa's turn to interrupt, brow furrowed angrily. "Come on, Ryuzaki, you can't just make things up like that! Just because you don't want to be wrong about Light doesn't mean you can start saying whatever you like to keep him here! You have no evidence that the second Kira made those tapes—nor that the second Kira exists at all, for that matter."

_What? That…that sounds like something he would have said_ after _Light's incarceration in the notebook's tale. They aren't supposed to start thinking like that for several months, so why are they already going down that road? One could argue that Light's incarceration is already taking place, of course, but even then, it took the task force a good few months before they started to question me like this, and it's only been a few weeks. It's too soon._

"I couldn't agree more," Soichiro said shortly. "It's obvious that there is no second Kira! You just don't want to be wrong!"

_No…no, this is wrong! This isn't supposed to happen yet!_ "Mr. Yagami, please do not be so swift to pass judgment. The existence of a second Kira isn't something I came up with overnight, it's something that I've been thinking out for several months. It is not a realization I reached solely because I wished to incarcerate Light."

"Is that so? Then how exactly do you plan to prove that a second Kira is behind these tapes?" Soichiro demanded.

And then it clicked. "Your son!" L exclaimed, stopping the chief in his tracks. "I have been sharing my thoughts on the case with him for all the time he's been confined, hoping to get a reaction that would condemn him. The existence of a second Kira is something that I have shared with him, and something that he has agreed with me on. If you want evidence that the second Kira is a viable concept, look no further than him."

There was a moment of heavy silence as the task force members shot each other questioning glances, clearly wondering if they should take the detective up on the offer. Finally, Soichiro cleared his throat awkwardly. "If that's the case, then I'll make sure to call him and speak with him to confirm your claims." He shot a withering glare at L, snapping, "And if he doesn't answer, then there will be hell to pay tomorrow!"

L seethed. _What a fool. Doesn't he realize that if I were lying, I'd just threaten Light to lie for me and confirm my tale?_ "Of course, Mr. Yagami. The line will always be kept open for you."

The man glared scathingly. "Get back to work," he ordered the task force sharply. "I'll be the one to call my son."

†††

Some time later, L found himself in his room, staring down at the notebook that had become his sole method of justice. His hands, gloved as they always were when he used the notebook, brushed across the charcoal-colored cover reverently. "I've underestimated you," the detective murmured. He pulled open the pages, flipping in until he reached the events involving the sending of the tapes to Sakura TV. "What else are you hiding?"

L skimmed over the words. Then he flipped a page or two back and reread.

_Oh…this is not good._

The story…it was all off track. In fact, it hadn't been on track for a long time. _Look at this…everything is beginning to derail. For example, I wasn't supposed to pull those tapes off the air—I already knew that. But what I forgot was that someone was supposed to die outside Sakura TV headquarters—a member of the task force. And if that wasn't enough, another member of the task force was the one who was supposed to get those tapes—but only after leaving the hospital after a heart attack that_ wasn't _caused by Kira. Even ignoring that, there are still many, many discrepancies in what's happened so far. All little things, like dates, times, and the identities of criminals. And of course, a few larger things like my refusal to include FBI agents in the Kira Case. In fact, I cut a lot of corners in arresting Light._

So, then—the story wasn't going as it was supposed to. That was both incredibly bad and incredibly good. On one hand, it meant that L was distancing himself from the path that led to his death. He was changing the future by altering the present, and with any luck, it would pay off. On the other hand, as the story changed more and more, the notebook would be less and less accurate about what came next. L would be in the dark, unable to completely trust its predictions. But then there was something else to consider: the way everything seemed to be accelerating. L had purposefully started the case months ahead of schedule in order to get ahead of Kira. But it seemed like the further he pulled ahead, the more the world around him was trying to pull him back to where he was supposed to be. The tapes were a prime example. The second Kira wasn't supposed to send those tapes in to Sakura TV until weeks in the future, and yet…here they were. It was as if the world around him was attempting to make up for the discrepancy in time created by L.

In other words, the world seemed to be working against him, combating any change he attempted to make. But it wasn't over—not even close. He _had_ managed to change the world around him already, and he could do it again. For example, he'd already worked hard to manipulate his relationship with Light. He'd 'killed' Takada. He'd questioned Sayu.

L turned a page. _What's next? What should I do?_

According to the notebook, a diary would be arriving in the mail from the second Kira. After that, the second Kira would find the first in Aoyama—and shortly after that, the tapes would come back from forensics bearing DNA from the second Kira, whom L would then arrest. Then would come the long period of incarceration—which would ultimately fail—and finally there would come the endgame involving Yotsuba.

So, then—the diary. That was the next thing L had to prepare for. How would he handle it? First he would have to make sure that he got his hands on it before the task force did. After that he would decide upon a course of action, most likely involving arresting whoever the second Kira ended up being.

That was something else he'd been working on for a few days—finding out the identity of the second Kira. His idea to search the airline's database hadn't turned anything up. Either the second Kira had disguised herself when she'd entered Japan, or she'd found a way to smuggle herself into the country. L wasn't sure which she'd chosen, but either way, it had worked to perfection. However, L had the upper hand. He knew that the second Kira would be in a tiny shop in Aoyama on the date specified in the diary wearing a short black wig—and once he got the notebook, figured out the time, and knew the place, he could pick her out of a crowd in a heartbeat. Assuming, of course, that things hadn't changed too drastically (which he feared that they had). Once he did that…well, he wasn't sure just what he would do with her. But whatever it was, when he was done, based on the evidence he received from her, he would be certain that Light was Kira. If he was lucky, he would end up not even needing a confession simply because of the pure amount of evidence.

L closed the notebook and slipped it back into the desk in which it was hidden.

He knew what he had to do.

†††

Exactly twenty-four hours later, a diary arrived in the mail. The instant Watari told him of its existence, L rushed downstairs and snatched it. When he opened it, everything was planned out exactly as it was supposed to be. In four days, the second Kira would be in the Note Blue to 'meet a friend' and 'show off their notebooks.' It was a rather good code, and something that only a Death Note owner would understand. Unfortunately for the second Kira, L could understand it. He would have to prepare to apprehend a female in a short black wig in the Note Blue. No time of day was specified.

Now it became L's duty to think of a plan to capture the second Kira and convince the task force that it was a good idea. If it came down to it, he would gladly go against their vote in order to capture the second Kira. However, it would be easier if they thought they were contributing to his plan. It would fall to L to make everything go smoothly.

But first…he needed to talk to Light.

That was where he was now, standing outside the cell door, pondering whether or not he should go inside. He hadn't seen the teen in a little over a day, and he was half expecting to walk inside and be struck upside the head by a tornado of hate resulting from his absence. _There's no use putting it off,_ L told himself. _I'll have to talk to him sooner or later, and I really do want to see him. He deserves to know at least a little about what's going on. Besides…there's no way he can use it to get the upper hand without his Death Note._

L took in a deep breath. Then, almost delicately, he reached out and opened the door.

Light did not attack him. In fact, he didn't even look up. The teen was lying on his stomach across the bed, legs kicked up at the knees, chin leaning on one hand. Before him was an in-progress game of chess, and he seemed to be in the middle of moving one of the pieces. "Ryuzaki," he greeted quietly. "It's nice to see you again."

The detective hesitated. Light seemed so calm, so serene…where was the enraged being he thought he'd be dealing with? "It's nice to see you as well," L said awkwardly, still standing in the doorway.

Light looked up, and his eyes perfectly mirrored the relaxed atmosphere. "I half thought you were going to stay away forever."

Ah…there it was. "Apologies. I had a few matters to attend to."

"I thought you ran away again."

L winced. This was not what he wanted to talk about. "I know you must be irritated about my absence, but something has happened that is far more important."

The teen narrowed his eyes, seemingly assessing whether he should listen to L or not. Evidently, he decided that it would be wiser to save this battle for another time. "What happened?"

"The second Kira has made a move," L began. "She sent in tapes to Sakura TV requesting to meet the original Kira. We know that she will be in Aoyama in the Note Blue four days from now. No time of day was specified."

Light nodded slowly. "What will you do?"

"I'm going to capture her. All that remains to be seen is how."

"Then why are you here?" Light slowly pushed himself off his stomach, leaning against the wall in order to face L. "You told me that I wasn't helping with the investigation, right? What do you have to gain from being here?"

"I'm developing a plan. I wanted your input."

The teen raised a brow, chuckling darkly. "Wow, you're asking for advice from your main suspect?"

"I'm serious about asking you to work with me," L informed him. "For safety reasons I cannot allow you to work in the investigation room, but I have no reservations about telling you about my plan this time around. After all, I'll need your help."

"Really?" Light sounded almost surprised, as if the thought of L talking to him about the case was truly insane. "What do you need me to do? Do I get to leave this cell?"

"Yes, actually, you will." L wasn't pleased with the plan he'd devised. He'd promised himself that the second Kira would never see Light's face, but now he realized that he would be forced to break that promise. He was already beginning to lose control of events—and so even now, there was a chance that something would happen in Aoyama that wasn't predicted in the notebook. If L wanted the best chance of getting to the second Kira, if he wanted to make sure that the scene in Aoyama played out exactly as it was supposed to, then he wanted to have Light by his side in order to recreate the situation as accurately as possible. He would take all the necessary precautions, and with any luck, everything would go smoothly. Light would ultimately participate in the plan that would lead to his own downfall. "I'm going to need you to help me capture the second Kira."

"That's quite risky. If I'm Kira, then why would I help you capture the second Kira?"

"Because she's not just killing criminals that deserve it, she's killing those that do not. As Kira, you have a responsibility to stop her from doing any more harm." And to that logic, perhaps Light had a responsibility to stop _him—_ but that was a thought for another time.

Light scrunched his features up adorably. "I'm not Kira," he grumbled.

"Even if you're not—and you _are—_ you still have a responsibility to justice."

There was a moment of apprehension in Light's eyes, but it was gone immediately after. "Fine," he said simply. "I'll help you. Even if I don't want to, I'll end up being forced to do it. After all, if I refuse, you can use that refusal to say that I don't want to capture the second Kira because she's my accomplice. It's a no-win situation—for me, of course. For you, there's no way you can lose."

"Very observant," L said.

"So what's the plan exactly?"

The detective drew a deep breath in preparation. His eyes flitted to the sides of the cell, searching for a shinigami that wasn't there. "It's not complicated. All you'll have to do is walk through Aoyama with me. The rest will be left up to me."

"You're not going to elaborate," Light guessed.

_I need to prove to him that he can trust me._ "No, I'll tell you. It's not a security threat, seeing as you won't be able to do anything to stop it. The plan is this: I will have surveillance cameras set up everywhere around Aoyama, especially in the Note Blue. The task force will be watching these security cameras for the person I've pegged as the second Kira. In addition, we will be there, watching for her. When we see her, or when my forces spot her, I will alert my officers and they will enter the Note Blue. After that, they will arrest the second Kira and bring her to me."

"And after that? What will you do with her?"

L just shook his head, saying, "That remains to be seen."

Light hummed, arms crossing over his chest. "I see. So, when do we leave? Four days from now, as the second Kira specified?"

"Yes. Until then, I have a feeling I'll be spending a bit more time in here, so…"

The teen seemed to catch the hint. "I'll keep a game of chess waiting," he offered, though his expression still seemed cool. "That is, as long as you're up for it."

L mirrored his companion's expression, responding, "You don't have to worry about me, Light—I'm up to the challenge. Of that you can be certain."

The look Light gave him set his nerves alight, and it took every ounce of willpower not to take him by the shoulders and slam him against a wall. But he knew that it was better for him to restrain himself, to keep Light in anticipation for a while longer, so that he would melt in his hands once he finally acted. And so all L did was take a single step forward, reach his hand out, and draw his fingers briefly along the side of the teen's face. Light leaned into it, shooting L a vicious glare as he drew away without so much as another light touch.

"You're terrible," the teen told him, and his tone was a muddle of irritation and mindless fascination.

"Patience," L chastised, lips quirking up into a small smile. "All in good time, my friend."

"Friend?" Light scoffed. "If you say so, Ryuzaki."

The detective stepped back, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Light. I'll see you tonight."

†††

Unsurprisingly, the task force agreed with L's plan. Also unsurprisingly, Soichiro wasn't agreeable when he found out that his son would be put in the second Kira's line of sight. He had, though, begrudgingly agreed that this person was the _second_ Kira, as had the rest of the task force. All it had taken was a well placed word by Light, and they were more than willing to consider the existence of more than one Kira. It was rather alarming, actually, the sway that the teen seemed to hold from inside his prison cell.

"So that's it, then," Soichiro said once the plan had been explained. "There's nothing we can do but catalogue victims for four days."

"Yes," L affirmed. "Perhaps in those four days we can learn something more about the second Kira. I know it seems tedious, but you must give it your all. If we can learn even a fraction more about Kira before the date at the Note Blue, it could ease in the capture of our suspect. Please do your best."

"And just what will you be up to?" Aizawa demanded cynically. "You've been disappearing a lot lately. What have you been up to?"

_Well, I can't exactly tell them that I've been murdering Light's friends and interrogating his family members._ "I have been attending to personal affairs. I apologize for my absence, but it was necessary."

"Necessary indeed," Aizawa grumbled. "You're supposed to be the leader of this investigation, Ryuzaki. That means you're supposed to be in the investigation room at all times. If you can't do that, then how can we treat you as our leader?"

Looking around, L was met with slow nods of agreement. It seemed that the rest of the task force was just as displeased with his absence—he would have to do something to placate them. Fine, then. Even if he hated it, he would take action to keep them from turning on him. "If you are so disturbed by my absence, then I suppose I will have to make an effort to be in the investigation room working beside you as often as possible for the next four days," he said, forcing back a swell of irritation. He hated saying such a thing. He hated taking time away from building enough trust between him and Light to gain a confession. But he needed to keep the task force happy, and if this was what it took, he would begrudgingly sacrifice his time. Perhaps he could catch up on his list of Kira's victims.

_Sorry, Light,_ he thought forlornly. _It looks like I won't be able to spend as much time with you as I thought._

†††

The next three days crawled by at an agonizing pace. L managed to keep his promise to stay in the investigation room with the task force during working hours, and as a result, the days became the detective's own personal perdition. He already knew that what they were doing was pointless, already knew exactly what was to come—and so each day played out like a performance put on for an audience. As the task force worked for what they believed to be a righteous cause, L simply went through the motions, knowing that everything he did in the investigation room would be for naught. His fate would not be changed by typing on a computer, but by writing in a notebook. His weapon of justice would not be a digital list of murdered criminals, but a pen pressed to paper. And so long as he was in the investigation room, he had no way to use that weapon, no way to alter fate. He was a prisoner under the eyes of his own task force. His only reprieve came at night, when the task force went home and L was left to his own devices. During those cherished hours, it fell to L to kill criminals, get just enough sleep to keep himself alive, and most importantly, speak with Light. Despite his promise to spend more time with the teen, L's new schedule didn't allow much time to spend in the cell. However, what time he did manage to spend with Light was the highlight of L's entire day. The two of them had begun another kind of game, a game in which both danced around each other with veiled words and subtle double meanings. They had reached a point in which both knew—or at least heavily suspected—who the other was, but neither had enough evidence to prove it, and neither was willing to confess. And so they circled each other like sharks out for a kill, going round and round, each hoping the other would slip up. So far, it hadn't happened.

"Just what are you hoping to achieve in just sitting there?" a voice echoed, tearing L from his musings.

The detective raised his head, glancing over at his companion. The two of them had been engaging in idle conversation for the past two hours, moving chess pieces across the board in a relaxed imitation of a game. This was the routine they'd fallen into over the past days—sit on the bed facing each other, spread out the chessboard in front of them, and fill the minutes with small talk. They had come to a silent agreement to avoid the larger topics—Takada's so-called death, Kira's rampage, the power to kill with only a name and a face—but only for the time being. They both seemed to understand that L's much-needed confession would have to wait until after the second Kira was caught. For now, all they would focus on was their silly little conversations and their half-assed games of chess.

"Hello?" Light prompted again. "Ryuzaki, are you awake? You've been sitting there for ten minutes! It's your turn, you know."

L shook himself from his stupor. "I apologize. I was merely thinking."

Light fiddled with one of the pawns he'd captured, rolling the tiny wooden object between his fingers. "You're really concerned about this plan, aren't you?"

Once again, the teen demonstrated his ability to see right through him. "Yes," he admitted. "I am worried."

"Hmm." Light watched as L reached out, moving one of his pieces to another spot on the board. "You said that you know exactly where she's going to be and what day she'll be there. You even know what she looks like. So what are you worried about? You can't possibly be concerned about the second Kira killing you; no one knows your name."

L ignored the subtle jab at his true identity. "I'm not concerned for my own safety. I am quite confident that I will not be harmed."

"Then what could you possibly be worried about?" The teen took one of his knights between two fingers and drug it across the board to its new position.

_I'm worried that something will go wrong, and that you and the second Kira will manage to collaborate, resulting in my death. November fifth, Light. If I can't stop this by then…_ "My fear is irrational," L said, unwilling to tell Light what he was really thinking. "I know that logically, nothing should go wrong. My concern lies with the anomalies, with the fact that sometimes logic is undermined by coincidence. I fear that I will carry out my plan and be struck down by some unpredictable event."

"Ah." Light gave a short nod. "An irrational fear indeed." He sounded stoic, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. "How terrifying it must be, to stand at the mercy of pure coincidence. To think that your plan, so obviously destined for success, may be thrown off because of one small event that you could not predict."

"Thanks for the pep talk," L grumbled, pushing one of Light's rooks over with the tip of his little finger.

Light dipped his head, but he wasn't swift enough to hide his smile. L found himself drawn to that smile, eyes clinging to its final seconds before it gave way to a thoughtful frown. "Is that all you're afraid of?"

"Yes," L answered without hesitation.

"Aww, come on," Light pouted. "You're not even a little scared about the fact that _I'll_ be walking right into the hands of the second Kira? After all, your name might be under wraps, but mine isn't. If something goes wrong, I'll be the one that gets killed. Not you."

L winced. Light had touched on the heart of his fear, one of the only reasons he was even remotely nervous. He didn't want the teen to die. And bringing him to the second Kira would put him in danger, even if only for a few minutes. But still…it was crucial for him to be there. He needed to recreate the scene in the Death Note as closely as possible. And in order to do that, he needed Light to be there. "I am aware of that."

"And you're not scared for me? I thought we were supposed to be _friends,_ Ryuzaki. Don't friends care if one of them is about to walk into danger?"

Yes, they did. Which was why L was so nervous. "I am completely confident that you will remain safe."

"Oh, no," Light chuckled, "don't lie to me. Didn't you just say that you were concerned about coincidences, about anomalies that might upset your entire plan? You can't try to tell me that you haven't considered the thought that those coincidences might end up getting me killed in some way or another."

L ground his teeth together in frustration. "I have, naturally, considered that that might happen. However, the percentage of possibility is so low that I don't consider it a threat."

"And isn't the possibility of failure just as low concerning your plan as a whole? You should really be saving some of that irrational nervousness for me, Ryuzaki."

The teen shifted almost self-consciously, and that was when L realized exactly what was going on. "You're scared."

Light blinked innocently, pursing his lips. "What? Of course I'm not scared!"

But he was. L could see it now—there was a tiny flicker of uncertainty in the teen's eyes, a dancing flame of nervousness. It was well hidden beneath a mask of bravado, but it was there. "You are," L affirmed quietly. "You're scared, and you're trying to get me to reassure you that nothing is going to go wrong."

"That's…" Light tensed visibly, fists clenching in the fabric of his pants. "That's absurd. I am not afraid of being killed by the second Kira."

_You shouldn't be afraid,_ L thought. _The second Kira will be able to see that you don't have a lifespan, assuming that she has the shinigami eyes. Once she sees that, she won't be killing you. The only problem will be if she doesn't have the eyes. If she doesn't, and if she's done her research, she has the potential to kill Light without a second thought. I am nervous, yes—but Light's the one that's really afraid._ "You are afraid," the detective repeated. "You're afraid that the second Kira will slaughter you like a common criminal. And…I'd be lying if the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

Light stared at him for a good moment, clearly trying to decide if he should admit his fear or not. "Fine," he muttered after a heartbeat, and it was clear that the words were physically paining him. "I'm a bit apprehensive, okay? I'm walking into a situation I don't fully understand, and I'm doing it with my name and face fully exposed. I could die."

"The probability of that is quite low," L reminded him.

"Still…even if there's less than one percent, it's cause for concern."

The words rang with familiarity. _I want him to trust me, right? This will be a good start._ "Light," L said firmly, drawing the teen's attention to him fully. The chess piece, clenched in Light's closed fist, was immediately forgotten. "I need you to listen to me very carefully." And now they were moving past the conversational portion of their evening, moving into the second phase. They'd only kept their little routine for three days, but still it seemed to be set in stone. L pushed himself up, kneeling, and pushed the game of chess out of the way. It was half finished, as it always was. The detective crawled forward, bringing himself towards Light until he was crouching directly in front of him, the figurative personal space bubble breached.

Light regarded him lazily. He leaned back harder into the wall, drawing one knee up to his chest and resting an elbow on it. "I'm listening, Ryuzaki."

One of the detective's hands shot out, clasping firmly to Light's shoulder. He pushed the unresisting teen back into the wall, eyes narrowing at the unrestrained smirk that was being shot his way. "When tomorrow comes, you will be safe."

"Ryuzaki, I—"

"No. Listen to me. I know that you are afraid, even if you will not admit it. And while you may not believe me, I can promise you that I have already taken, and will take, every precaution. You will be safe, no matter what happens."

Light laughed without humor. "You can't make that promise."

"Oh, yes I can," L said confidently—in fact, with far more confidence than he truly had. "I won't deny that there is a less than one percent chance that something will go wrong. However, should that margin of error prove to be the downfall of my plan, I will make sure that no matter what happens, you will not be the one to fall." _Better him than me,_ a darker part of L's mind whispered—but he ignored his more sadistic half in favor of promising, "I am going to protect you." He caught his companion's eyes, searching for the flicker of relief that would signal his belief in his promise.

"That's real comforting, Ryuzaki," Light scoffed. But L could see the way the teen's shoulders slumped slightly, the way the severity of his expression lessened.

L pretended he hadn't noticed the change. He shrugged, saying, "Well, believe what you will, but remember: I'm trying to get you to trust me. And lying to you about being able to keep you safe is hardly a good first step." He allowed his hand to slip from Light's shoulder, falling to rest on the bed beside his waist. He longed to maintain contact, but he knew that it would hardly be appreciated while Light was feeling as nervous as he was.

"No," Light agreed. "But what _would_ be a good first step is finally admitting to me that you're L."

L rolled his eyes in response, leaning back slightly. "All in good time, Light." He glanced down at his phone. To his dismay, he saw that it was almost time for the task force to arrive. He'd spent almost the entire night talking to Light, moving chess pieces around the board without care. He'd even given up writing names in the Death Note for the night, simply so he could spend more time in the cell with his companion. He'd already spent more time with Light than he had nearly anyone else, and still he longed for more. It was dangerous. L knew, logically, that the attachment he was forming could be lethal. But that logic, sound as it was, was easily overridden by emotion, the foul beast that L had spent his entire life trying to suppress. He'd built barriers, walls against feeling anything—and all it had taken was a single push from a single teenager to bring them down. "It's time for me to go," L admitted, dodging the searching look Light was giving him. "The task force will be arriving soon."

"Hmm." Light's eyes searched up and down L's form, as if trying to see through him. "This is the last day, isn't it? Tomorrow we'll carry out the plan."

"It is."

"Well, then…good luck." It was spoken flatly, with a seeming lack of emotion—but L had been down that road before. He could tell that Light was hiding both his nervousness at being put in the line of fire and his excitement at finally being free of his cell, even if only for a few hours. "I'd hate to be in your position, forced to work with a bunch of people far below your intellectual level."

L raised a brow. "I thought you wanted to join the investigation, work with those people that are _so far below our level._ "

"No," Light scoffed, "I want to work with _you."_

The detective's lips curled into a small smile as he said, "How flattering."

"Don't take it too seriously."

L pushed himself of the bed, breaking the proximity between them. "I'm sorry for the abrupt ending to our little session, but I need to be going. The task force is already suspicious enough as it is; they've recognized the time I spend outside of the investigation room as a cover for something they wouldn't approve of. These past few days have made up for that in part, but there is still far more for me to do if I wish to gain their trust as well as yours."

"Well, to be fair, I don't exactly think they'd approve of what you've been doing."

"They never need to know. And besides, I'm slowly but surely gaining their trust. It won't be long before I can do whatever I want, and they won't suspect a thing."

Light snorted. "You may be able to wind the rest of the task force around your finger, but good luck doing the same to my father. He isn't exactly reassured by your time spent in the investigation room."

Light was, unfortunately, alluding to the calls Soichiro had been making to him—a grand total of seven over three days. L's extra time spent with the task force had only made the man more suspicious, as he thought that L had appointed someone to torture Light in his absence. He had not, of course—and so whenever the calls occurred, Soichiro found himself talking to a very bored, very frustrated Light. "He will be. It'll just take time." _And if I can't get him to trust me, then there's always a plan B._

"Good luck," Light repeated, a light smirk on his face.

L nodded briefly. He moved forward, and there was a kiss—a brief, confusing press of lips, for the two had not yet decided just what was becoming of this strange little relationship they'd formed. "Thank you, Light," L said, dipping his head slightly. "But in this case, luck has nothing to do with it."


	20. Jera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Misa doesn't know what she's gotten herself into...
> 
> Thanks for the support!

The fourth day had arrived, and it was time for L's plan to be carried out.

The first thing he did was make sure that every camera in Aoyama was fully functional. He double, triple, and quadruple checked every single video feed—and then he checked them all again, and then again. He needed to be certain that none of the cameras would malfunction. If even one went dead, it could be the difference between getting a clear shot of the second Kira or getting nothing at all.

The second thing L did was make sure that every single member of his personal police force knew exactly what their role would be. They were all equipped with standard issue police uniforms as well as a helmet with a tinted plastic shield around the face. It wouldn't do much to protect against bullets, but it would be perfect for stopping the second Kira from seeing the faces of any of the officers. L divided his forces into four units of ten men each and assigned them each to a different sector of Aoyama, giving them each a different objective. He ordered one unit to dress in civilian clothing with the exception of a mask (it looked strange, L knew, but he would rather his men draw strange looks than be killed by the second Kira) and spread themselves out over a mile long radius, keeping watch for an American female wearing a short black wig and sunglasses. If anyone even looked vaguely suspicious, they were to detain them at once. The second unit was ordered to take refuge in the back room of the building beside the Note Blue. On L's orders they would flood into the space around the café, guns fully loaded, ready to stop the second Kira if she attempted to run. L assigned the third unit to the rooftops around the Blue Note. They were to stay low, avoiding unnecessary attention, keeping a lookout for anything strange. If necessary, they would drop from the rooftops on extension cables in order to apprehend the second Kira. Lastly, the fourth unit was ordered to hide out in the back room of the Note Blue. Once they received the signal, they would be the ones to take the second Kira into custody.

Next, L gave the task force their orders. The task force had pushed to be included in the mission—i.e. posing as regular customers in the café—but L wouldn't allow it. If he gave them permission to stay in the café, they wouldn't blend in well enough, and there was a high chance that the second Kira would spot them and identify them as the officers trying to capture her. Other than that, the only other way to allow the task force in the field would be to post them outside the Blue Note—and if they were outside, they would stick out like sore thumbs, even more so than if they were inside the café. In his attempt to keep the task force out of the situation, L explained the inconveniences of their involvement time and time again. But it wasn't until he offered them another job that they finally agreed to stand down. L, in keeping the task force happy, ordered them to watch the surveillance cameras for any disturbances. If something went wrong, they were to immediately inform one of L's unit commanders, who would then inform L himself. It kept them happy, and they were able to serve an important purpose.

Lastly, and most importantly, L put the final touches on the part of the plan that would be shared by Light and himself. His first precaution was to change his clothing for the mission. He intended to force Light into a different set of clothes as well, but not until it was time to leave—and a fair amount of time still remained in between now and then. About an hour before the mission, L pulled on a red long-sleeved shirt, forced himself into a pair of black jeans, and laced up a pair of charcoal gray boots. The last step was his hair. He _hated_ his hair—touching it, looking at it, styling it—which was why it normally ended up in a tangled mop. But just for the day, he forced himself to comb it out so it hung across his face just enough to keep the second Kira from being able to see his name. He couldn't wear a mask for obvious reasons, but he could use his hair to shield himself to a certain degree. After altering his appearance, he went over every detail of the plan he'd laid out for himself and Light. It was a rather simple plan, but it _was_ going to work. L and Light would walk down the street in front of the Blue Note, blending in with the crowd the best they could. Unfortunately, L knew that if the second Kira had the shinigami eyes, blending in wouldn't be an option; she would see the absence of a lifespan above Light's head. It wasn't as if the teen could wear a mask to hide it. And if she didn't have the eyes, if she'd done her research, she may have discovered the names and faces of the task force members—of which Light was now a part of. If she saw Light and recognized him as a part of the task force, she might think that they were about to move in and capture her—and if that happened, she would kill the members of the task force, Light included. That was the danger. That was what L was mainly concerned about. And worst of all, there was no way to combat his fear. He could leave Light behind, but he was trying to recreate the scene as accurately as he could. If he was going to do that, Light had to be there.

But he'd gotten off topic. As he walked down the street with Light, L would simply glance into the window of the Blue Note. If the girl with the short black hair was sitting there, exactly where she was supposed to be, then he would wait until they were out of the view of the café, and then he would give the order to move in. If they walked by and no one was in the café that matched L's description of the second Kira, then he would walk to the end of the street, wait exactly fifteen minutes, and walk past again. The process would be repeated, back and forth, until the second Kira was found. It was a tedious process—and when he'd described it to the task force, they'd rightly pointed out that he could always just use the security cameras until he caught sight of the suspect. But as L had thought time and time again, he wanted to recreate the situation closely. The second Kira had spotted Light as he walked by, and so Light would have to move past the Blue Note just as he had in the story written in the notebook. With any luck, they would track her down on their first pass, and no one would be harmed.

However, there was an elephant in the room. Something L had yet to acknowledge, for he'd been spending all his energy on both capturing the second Kira and getting Light to trust him.

The last obstacle to L's plan—the second Kira's shinigami.

According to the notebook, the shinigami was very protective of the second Kira. She was the whole reason that Kira hadn't simply killed the second Kira to begin with. If that shinigami hadn't been around, then things would have been quite different. And so if L wanted to get around the second Kira—if he wanted to get around the sole thing that had plagued Kira again and again—he would have to get rid of that shinigami.

The problem began with the fact that the shinigami would kill anyone who tried to hurt the second Kira. And if she died, the shinigami's last act would be to murder whoever had killed her. That being said, the mindset of the second Kira's shinigami was a very serious issue for L. If he wanted to get any information out of the second Kira, gain anything useful at all, he would have to interrogate her. He would have to cause her discomfort for the sake of seeking answers. And if he did that, then Rem would kill him for sure. He could wear a mask to protect his name until he got what he wanted, but even then he wouldn't be safe. Rem would wait, and when L removed his mask, she would kill him. He couldn't wear a mask forever, after all—and one slip would lead to his death. So, then, he had to find a way to get rid of Rem before he could interrogate the second Kira.

_It will take quite a plan to get rid of that shinigami without putting myself in the line of fire,_ L knew. _Even Kira couldn't figure it out. In fact, the second Kira was the last one alive—she outlived Kira himself, even if by only a few hours. Luckily for me, I have something the original Kira didn't have—information. I already know how to kill a shinigami, and I know where the second Kira is going to be. All I have to do is put a few pieces together, and Rem will fall._

And L knew exactly which pieces to try.

†††

"Time to go!"

Light raised his head, staring lazily over at the open door. "Ah," he sighed, feigning lack of interest. "Here to break me out?"

"No time for joking," L said shortly. He looked tense, on edge—and though he didn't want to admit it, L's guarded expression just made Light even more nervous than he already was. "It's time to get ready. Put these on." The detective chucked a bundle of clothing at him, smacking the teen in the chest before he had the chance to raise his arms.

Light unfolded the bundle, revealing one of his red dress shirts—slightly wrinkled—and a pair of black slacks. "Matching set?" he asked humorously, gesturing to L's outfit. "Red looks good on you, you know. You should wear it more often."

"I'll endeavor not to," L grumbled, clearly irritated with the change in clothing. "And our outfits are clearly different; your shirt has a collar, and you're not wearing jeans and boots."

"Speaking of, where's the shoes?"

The detective's expression twisted in defiance, but he tossed a pair of dress shoes onto the ground beside Light's feet. A heartbeat later a black tie followed, smacking Light in the face with far more force than was necessary.

_Hah…who's the nervous one now?_ Light caught the tie as it started to fall, frowning at the creases. "Come on, Ryuzaki, you've wrinkled it!"

"Just get dressed."

Light sighed deeply, putting on a show of exasperation when in reality, he was thrilled to be given a change of clothes and some time outside. He straightened his back and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. "So, you have everything worked out?"

"I do," L responded heavily, and Light didn't miss the way his eyes were raking up and down his form, even in his irritation.

"Anything I should know?" Light asked, slipping his arms through the sleeves of the wrinkled dress shirt and buttoning it up. He reached for the tie next, tying it perfectly.

"Nothing has changed. All you have to do is walk with me."

"Understood." Light pulled off his pants and replaced them with slacks, relishing the feeling of thicker, softer material instead of thin cotton. He lowered himself onto the bed the following moment, pulling on socks, then shoes, and making sure they fit correctly. He raised a hand to his hair, wincing as he felt the countless tangles. "Ryuzaki, I will not go out when my hair looks like this. I demand a comb."

L reached a hand into his back pocket, and a moment later a comb was thrown Light's way. "As usual, you are completely predictable in your desire for personal hygiene. I brought one in advance of your demand."

"Much appreciated," Light said with a smirk. He began to run the comb through his impossibly tangled hair, wincing as it caught on one snag after another. "There," he said when he finally managed to rid his hair of all tangles. "Now let's—"

_Click._

Light stared down at his hands, stunned. "Ryuzaki, are you serious? Handcuffs?"

"You are still my primary suspect," L pointed out emotionlessly. "I cannot risk your escape."

"Right," he grumbled. "And bound hands is going to stop me from running."

"I'm sorry, did you want me to bind your ankles as well?"

"No, no," Light said quickly. "I'm fine. Besides, if I run, you'll just hunt me down. And at this point, it's not like I want to escape." And it was true. _Stockholm Syndrome,_ he figured, but identifying the affliction didn't make it any easier to get rid of. It was something he couldn't control, something that was forcing his control to slip away like sand between his fingers.

"Good to know." L gestured vaguely for the door, announcing, "It's time to go. We need to hurry or we might miss our window."

"Now, at three in the morning?" Light protested. _Or at least, it feels like three in the morning. If I had a clock in here, I might actually be able to tell._

"It is six thirty," L corrected. "Now hurry up. We have no idea when the second Kira plans to be at the Note Blue."

"Fine, fine…" Light twisted his wrists in the cuffs, wincing as the steel bit into his skin. "Let's get out of here."

†††

_And so it begins,_ L thought, staring out into the groups of people navigating Aoyama. There weren't as many as he thought there'd be; it would be harder to blend in with the crowd if there wasn't much of a crowd to begin with. _It'll have to be enough. I can't exactly reschedule this meeting to a day with more of a crowd._ L removed his communicator from his pocket, pressing the button and commanding, "Once you four are in position, report back immediately."

"So this is it?" Light asked beside him, rocking back and forth in an excited sort of nervousness. "Once the unit commanders report back, we can go?"

"Unfortunately, yes." L couldn't help but notice that all of Light's fear from before had melted in the face of excitement. Or perhaps what Light was feeling was a mixture of the two, mangled and twisted beyond differentiation.

"Good," he replied with a huff. "I'm going to throw up if I have to sit here and do nothing much longer."

L's communicator buzzed to life, and a moment later, all four unit commanders were reporting in and giving L the green light to proceed. "That's it," L said, turning to Light. "We can proceed."

The teen shot him an indecipherable look. "Good, that's…that's good." He held out his hands, still bound. "Would you care to do the honors?"

"Of course." L unlocked the cuffs. It was almost painful for him, letting Light walk free—even temporarily—but it was necessary. He couldn't risk drawing attention to Light. He offered the teen his arm, asserting, "Remember, you are to stay slightly in front of me for the duration of our little outing. I can't risk you falling behind and assaulting me while I can't see you."

"Yeah, right," Light snorted, threading his arm through L's. "As if I'm going to attack you."

"Better safe than sorry, you understand."

Light rolled his eyes. "Fine," he assented. "Let's get on with it."

L glanced down at his communicator one last time, as if waiting for something to go through, some message that meant the second Kira had already been captured, and he wouldn't have to put anyone else in danger. Unfortunately, that message never came. And so L, drawing in a single deep breath to keep himself calm, and took a small step forward to begin the journey.

Even though the path from their starting point to the ending point just beyond the Note Blue was relatively short, their first pass seemed to take forever. The fact that there weren't crowds of people roaming the streets just made things worse, taking away their only means of protection from the second Kira's gaze. Throughout their entire walk, Light remained firmly attached to L's arm. With every step his grip on L's arm seemed to tighten, and the detective doubted that he even realized it was happening. All of that nervous excitement seemed to have materialized itself in the way Light's nails dug into L's shirt, the way his eyes flitted about.

"You need to calm down," L said as they neared the Note Blue. "You look suspicious."

"Calm down?" Light echoed, and his fingers clenched in the fabric of L's shirt. "How can I? I'm shaking, and I can't tell if I'm nervous or excited."

"We're getting close. If you don't stop shaking, then the second Kira will be able to pick you out of a crowd easily." L reached his other hand over—the one not currently trapped under Light's arm—and placed it gently on his companion's forearm. "Relax. Everything will work out, you'll see." _Yes…with what I've orchestrated in the Death Note, nothing can go wrong. Or at least, it's highly unlikely that something will go wrong._

Light looked up at him, expression drawn and tense. Then, slowly, he visibly forced himself to relax. "Okay…I understand." He set his jaw, head whipping back around to face forward, where the Note Blue was almost upon them. "The café is right there; let's get this over with."

L kept his eyes fixed on the Note Blue as they walked closer, making sure that his staring was perfectly subtle. In a matter of seconds they were walking past, in a single, all too swift moment, and L's gaze snapped to the large window that served as the front wall of the shop. He searched for the second Kira, looked closely at everyone in the shop, and…

"She's not there," L reported in a low growl. "She must be on her way, or waiting for a specific moment. We'll have to head to the point of termination and wait for our next window."

Light nodded tensely. "Right. But Ryuzaki, what do we do if she doesn't show up?"

"She will," L assured him firmly. "I have it on good authority that she _will_ be here." Yes, good authority—i.e. the Death Note, which wasn't as reliable as he wanted it to be. "You'll see, Light—all we have to do is wait."

†††

"I know you said we had to wait," Light groaned, head in his hands. "But I didn't think you meant for _three hours._ "

L couldn't help but agree. They'd taken countless passes over the past three hours, and not once had the second Kira shown up. L was beginning to suspect that all of his efforts to alter the future had paid off in the exact wrong way—in other words, made it so the predictions in the Death Note were no longer accurate when it came to pinpointing the second Kira's movements. _I may have gone a bit too far a bit too fast. I have a feeling that I've thrown myself down the rabbit hole, and I may be in too deep to pull myself back out._

Beside him, Light let out a heavy sigh. He pushed himself off of the chair he'd been resting in for the past few minutes. "Well, it's been fifteen minutes. We should head off again."

"Yes," L agreed forlornly. "We should." He offered his arm to Light for the nth time, barely feeling the moment when the teen accepted it. Then they were off, as had become routine, walking back toward the Note Blue.

"This is taking forever," Light complained as they moved. "I don't care what you say, I don't think she's showing up."

L shook his head. "Even I'm beginning to doubt my sources at this point."

Light gave him a weary smile in response, chuckling, "What, you're admitting you're not perfect?"

"No, I'm admitting that my sources may be flawed."

"Always blaming others," the teen chastised, but all of his previous energy had faded. His rush of nervousness seemed to have led to a tremendous crash, almost akin to the aftermath of a sugar rush.

L gestured subtly to the space in front of them. "We're coming up on the café again. Maybe she'll be there this time."

"Yeah, maybe."

L turned his gaze on the Note Blue, hoping desperately that the second Kira would be there. He was hardly expecting it anymore, was almost convinced that the second Kira wouldn't be showing up at all. When he walked past the café, Light hanging on his arm, he was no longer expecting to see the second Kira. And so when he looked up and saw someone sitting directly in front of the massive window bearing short black hair, pale skin, and a pair of dark sunglasses. L almost stopped dead in his tracks. One hand shot to Light's shoulder, gripping tightly. "Don't look at the café," he hissed. "Keep walking." His free hand grabbed his communicator, raising it to his lips, tilting it so that the second Kira wouldn't be able to see what he was doing, especially through the light crowd. "All unit leaders, I've sighted the suspect. She is the female currently seated near the front window of the Note Blue. Proceed as planned."

"You see her?" Light whispered, ducking his head so that his hair fell over his face. "She's in the café?"

"She is. I've ordered the unit leaders to move in." L chanced a glance back at the Note Blue. The second Kira was still staring straight ahead. But as they slowly moved away, L saw her turn her head to the empty space beside her. Her lips moved, though it was subtle, in a seemingly one-sided conversation. But L knew better—he knew that she had to be speaking with her shinigami. The detective fought back a smirk. _I hope you're not relying too heavily on the protection of that shinigami, you miserable little copycat. She won't be with you much longer. Any minute now…_

A loud noise suddenly echoed through the street, followed by the sound of cracking glass. And a moment later, there was a dull thud as a body hit the ground inside the café.

"What just happened?" Light gasped. "Was that a gunshot?"

_That's my cue._ L barked into his communicator, "Move in now! Ignore the shooter, capture the second Kira immediately!" _If the plan worked, she should still be alive. The other guy, however…_

Directly on cue, L's team of officers moved as one. The detective drew to a halt, still just in view of the Note Blue, and watched as the officers swarmed the café. Inside, he caught a glimpse of the door to the back room opening, and ten uniformed officers charging into position, guns raised. And behind them, the body of one of the employees spread across the counter—dead. But that wasn't what L was focusing on. He had his eyes fixed on the second Kira, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming. But as he watched, waiting for that inevitable response, he was met with nothing. The second Kira…why wasn't she reacting as she was supposed to? Had his plan failed? His eyes swung to the empty space beside the girl, where he knew her shinigami was hovering. His plan had been flawless—the shinigami should be dying right now—but the girl wasn't reacting with horror, wasn't looking over as her shinigami dissolved into dust—and so it was obvious that something had gone wrong. The shinigami wasn't dying. This was a problem…L's plans for the future revolved around the death of this shinigami.

L watched as the second Kira launched to her feet just as the officers flooded in, whirling to face them with her hands over her mouth in shock. She was displaying the appropriate reaction to the police surrounding her with loaded guns, not to mention the seemingly random gunshot that had shattered the glass beside her head and killed the employee currently collapsed across the counter.

"On the ground!" one of the officers snapped.

The second Kira seemed too stunned to react. But in the face of ten loaded guns, she was forced to move. The girl dropped to her knees, facial expression revealing nothing but shock even as the glass cut into her bare skin. It was only a matter of seconds before she was cuffed, completely at L's mercy. But still, there was no shocked gasp, no turning of the head to stare at the shinigami. It appeared as if the shinigami wasn't dying. Again, this was an issue.

It looked like a successful outcome, to anyone that didn't know the true purpose of the plan. Not even Light knew that this plan had been intended to eliminate the second Kira's shinigami—L was the only one who knew, and the only one who felt the full disappointment of his failure. If the shinigami had not died, then his life had just become a hundred times more complicated.

"What the hell happened?" Light asked again, eyes wide. L had almost forgotten that he was still hanging on his arm. "What was that stray gunshot? And that employee is dead!"

"What happened indeed, Light?" L murmured, staring into the café, mesmerized. Of course, L knew what had happened.

He was the only one who knew.

It was supposed to be easy—but in the end, his plan had fallen short. L had known that he needed to get rid of the shinigami, and he'd known that it had to be soon. And so all it had taken was a few sentences in the Death Note to assure himself that the shinigami would die. He'd had no way of knowing that his plan would fail.

_Koji Nakamura is working in the Note Blue at 7:00 in the morning when he finds a cell phone and a gun in the drawer beneath the register. He does not tell anyone about either objects, but conceals them in his required uniform. Later in the day, he receives a text on his cell phone. Upon reading it, he removes the gun and aims it in the direction of an American female in a short black wig and dark sunglasses. He verbally threatens her with death before firing the gun in her general direction. He misses, splintering the glass. Seconds after doing so, he experiences a heart attack moments before being shot by a police officer._

That had been the foundation. After that, there had been only one step left to take—and even if the first part of the plan had failed, the second was already in motion.

"Hey!" one of the unit leaders yelled, right on cue. "We've got a man down!"

"Come on," L snapped, dragging Light behind him as he made a beeline for the café. He had to see—he had to see that the second part of his plan was being carried out, even if the first had failed. It was too late to stop it now, he knew. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could take back what he'd written in the Death Note.

Sure enough, there it was. As he watched, officer after officer dropped to the ground in front of him. Even the officers holding the second Kira went down, collapsing—and in moments, L knew that it was over. They were dead.

"Oh god…" Light rasped, breaking the perfect silence. "Kira killed them? But no, that's not possible!"

"Why not, Light?" L murmured through his dismay. "The only way you could know that it's not possible is if you know how Kira kills. But you can't know that, because you're not Kira, right?"

"Ryuzaki, ten people are dead! Eleven, including that poor employee. How can you be so intent upon proving I'm Kira after seeing this happen right in front of you?"

_Because I knew it was going to happen. I planned it, after all, even if my true purpose wasn't achieved._

It had taken a lot of forethought, which now seemed useless in the face of his failure. The first part of his plan had been easy—writing the words that would get the employee to shoot at the second Kira. One of the rules of the Death Note was that it could not be used to make someone hurt another human being—so there was no risk of the second Kira being killed before L had a chance to question her. Instead, L had _tried_ to use the employee to do something very important—kill the shinigami. He'd worked so hard, made sure that every part of his plan was perfect. Unfortunately, next to nothing had gone according to plan.

When the employee had held a gun to the second Kira's head and threatened her with death, the shinigami _should_ have responded by writing his name in the Death Note in order to save the second Kira. That alone should have killed her, seeing as she would have extended the girl's lifespan by killing the man. But it hadn't worked. Something had gone wrong. Had the shinigami not written his name, or…?

L's blood ran cold. No…the shinigami hadn't written his name. She hadn't written it because she'd known that she didn't need to. The detective clamped his teeth down on his tongue, cursing his own stupidity. _Damn…how could I overlook something so simple? Of course the shinigami didn't write that employee's name, because she could see his lifespan. She could see that he was about to die in a matter of seconds, and she must have put two in two together. And the second Kira…the shinigami could see her lifespan as well, could see that it wasn't near zero. She must have figured out that the employee wasn't able to hurt the second Kira. After all, anyone controlled by the Death Note cannot be controlled to harm another human being. She would have known that the second Kira was safe. And even if she_ had _written that employee's name…_

L winced, realizing that his plan may have been more flawed than he wanted to believe. He wasn't sure if he was right, but he had the sudden suspicion that even if the shinigami had written the employee's name, it wouldn't have worked. After all, hadn't L written his name first? If Rem wrote his name _again_ in her notebook, it wouldn't have changed the second Kira's lifespan because that employee was already fated to die without harming anyone. In writing the employee's name, the shinigami would not have committed suicide for she would not have lengthened the second Kira's lifespan.

_Then the life of that employee and the lives of my men were sacrificed for nothing,_ L acknowledged bitterly. But no—it hadn't been for nothing, had it? The life of the employee may have been lost in vain, but the lives of his ten officers _had_ meant something. L had killed them with purpose, and that purpose still held. He'd killed them to prove the second Kira's guilt, after all. If this person was the second Kira, then she would naturally have lashed out and killed those around her when she felt threatened. To anyone that didn't know how the notebook was used, it was completely plausible that the girl would have been able to kill the officers in self-defense. It made her look guilty, that was for certain. No one could remain unsuspicious of her now, even if those deaths weren't exactly enough to condemn her without a confession or hard evidence. He was tempted to feel guilty for his actions, but L knew that he had sacrificed ten of his own men and the life of the employee for the greater good. How many lives had he saved in bringing the second Kira in, even if her shinigami lived? For these eleven lives, how many would now get to live their life the way they deserved? The second Kira had been killing those who didn't entirely deserve it for no reason. She needed to be stopped.

"Ryuzaki?" Light asked, and L realized that he'd never answered his question. "Just…forget it." He looked away, expression twisted painfully. "This is horrible. I can't believe that eleven innocent people are dead."

"It's a tragedy," L murmured, reaching for his communicator. "Unit two, enter the building and take the suspect into custody. Unit one is down."

As L spoke, Light started to move towards the second Kira. She was still on her knees, hands bound behind her back. She was shaking slightly, most likely out of shock. However, unlike when L had found Light in a similar situation, he felt no need to comfort the second Kira. He hated her. She was flawed. She killed without reason. "Light," he spoke up, "don't get near her. She could still hurt you."

"With her hands bound?" Light snapped. "I don't think so, you heartless bastard."

"She is _Kira._ You cannot be near her."

"And I say that I _can."_ Light knelt beside the second Kira, expression one of gentle concern. "Hey…are you okay?"

The second Kira shook her head shallowly, refusing to look up.

"What's your name?" Light asked softly, attempting to shake her from her haze.

The girl's entire form tensed slightly as she forced out, "It…it's Misa. Misa Amane."

_Misa Amane._ Now he knew the name of the second Kira. "Light, step away at once. The second unit is coming, and you'll just be in their way."

The teen glared. "She's not dangerous right now, Ryuzaki. She needs comfort, not the chains your officers will offer her."

_This isn't right. Light is supposed to hate Misa. The moment he met her he knew that he despised her. So why is he acting so gentle, so kind?_

"You'll be okay," Light assured the second Kira, though he had to know that his promise was hollow. "We're going to get you somewhere safe, and then we can talk about what you've been up to the past few weeks. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay?"

L didn't hear Misa's response. _No…I think I know what happened here. I changed the conditions under which they met. Originally, they met in an inopportune way. The tapes she sent in angered Light, and he immediately despised the person that had been so foolish as to send in such nonsense. When he met Misa in person, all he could see was the fact that she'd made such a grievous mistake—and after having a conversation with her, he found out that she was dull minded and obsessive. She was the opposite of Light's ideal companion. But now…I've changed everything. Those tapes never saw the light of day, so Light has no idea what kind of person the second Kira is. He's never had a conversation with her, so he doesn't know that she's obsessed with him. No, that's not right—she hasn't had the chance to become obsessed, since she doesn't know who he is. All Light sees is a broken, distraught girl. All he sees is someone who needs comfort, someone who is in the exact same position as he was not too long ago. He hasn't had the chance to learn to hate her, and so now, meeting her for the first time…he feels a sense of camaraderie. In his mind, they are the same. Both Kira, both captured by L, both subjected to tragedy because of me. I may have just created a very unfortunate friendship._

"Can you stand?" Light inquired, offering Misa his hand and unknowingly sparking a dull surge of protectiveness in L's chest. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up."

Misa nodded shakily. "T-thank you," she stuttered, taking Light's hand.

_So you'll hold her hand but not mine?_ L kicked pointlessly at the ground before him, finding no relief from the anger in doing so. "Light, come back here at once."

Once again, there was no response. "You're not hurt, are you?"

And once again, L didn't hear her answer. Now that his immediate shock had passed, he was beginning to realize just what kind of a situation he was in. The shinigami wasn't dead. And that meant that she was here, hovering somewhere around Misa and waiting for the right moment to kill them all. If she thought Misa was about to be killed, then they would all die, here and now. _Perhaps Light is right to comfort her,_ he thought, though he felt a spike of jealousy at the concept. _If he tells Misa that nothing will happen to her, then the shinigami is less likely to kill us. She doesn't want to die, after all—she won't take action against us until she's certain that there's no other way._

"We can take care of your injuries when we get back to headquarters," Light assured Misa, eyeing the scarlet soaking the fabric at her knees. The cuts weren't deep, but L knew that they must hurt quite badly. "Here, let me—"

L fought back a jealous snarl as he saw the teen extending a hand to Misa once again. He took a meaningful step forward, grabbing Light by the wrist. "I'm not going to ask you again, Light. Step away."

"Let me go, you bastard!" Light snapped, attempting to wrench his wrist from L's grasp to no avail. "I told you, she needs _comfort—"_

"She is a murderer," L hissed in a low tone, glancing over at Misa to make sure she wasn't doing anything suspicious. _Careful, now—you can't seem too hostile or the shinigami will tear your head off._ "Have you forgotten that this person has taken the lives of more people than you've ever met?"

For a long moment, all Light did was glare harshly. But after a moment, just as L had predicted, his expression fell to one of exhaustion and all the fight drained out of him. He knew that the detective was right. "Fine," he said quietly, allowing L to pull him several steps away. "Just don't let your men hurt her."

L moved to respond, but before he could, his team of officers were entering the building in a flood of chaos, cutting him off and drawing the attention of all those remaining in the room. Then, in a few short moments that L didn't have the chance to comprehend, Misa was taken into custody. "Sir," the unit leader called, "we'll take her to the car now. Would you like us to clean this place up?"

"Yes," L said, casting a nervous glance behind him as if he could see if the shinigami was attempting to kill him for taking Misa into custody. "Make sure the customers that were in the café during the capture don't talk to the press. I'm sure that at least one of them has attempted to phone the news station."

"I'll take care of it at once."

L nodded briefly before turning to face Light, who had taken to staring at the dead officers with a horrifyingly blank expression, as if he'd just begun to realize what had happened. "Light?" He was struck with the sudden realization that perhaps forcing his teenage companion to observe the deaths of eleven innocent people hadn't been the best idea. After all, Light—Kira—had never seen the Death Note work in such close proximity. He'd always been behind a figurative glass wall, separated from the cruel reality that was the death he was causing. But now he'd been removed from his neat little glass box and thrown right into the middle of the action—and he didn't seem to like it. _Well, he shouldn't like it. Perhaps now that he's seen this firsthand he'll be willing to confess and let me teach him how to use the Death Note the right way._ "Light, we need to go."

The teen shook his head slowly. "What are you going to do to her, Ryuzaki?"

"I'm going to interrogate her, of course. I'll need solid evidence to convict her, after all. What I've done here is merely taken her in as a suspect—if I want to justify it, I'll need something more."

"A confession?" Light asked in a hollow tone. "Tell me, are you going to drag one of that girl's friends down into one of the cells and pump it full of toxic gas?"

"It won't go that far," L assured him, his heart skipping a beat as he remembered the shinigami that was no doubt observing them. "The girl will not be put through any more pain than is necessary."

"I don't trust you." Light tracked Misa's movement as she was led from the café. "If you were trying to gain my trust—"

L's eyes narrowed to slits. "Everything I did was a part of the plan we agreed on beforehand. Nothing I've done should make you doubt me."

"Your treatment of the suspect—"

"—Was completely within reason. You seem to have forgotten that we are dealing with a mass murderer. Her gender and delicate build does not mean that she wouldn't take your head off without a second thought if she got the chance."

There was a moment of silence. Then, "What about the officers?"

"What about them?"

"You gave them equipment that was supposed to hide their faces. Why didn't it work?"

_They did work, but only on Rem and Misa. I already knew my officers' names, after all—and I was the one writing them down._ "I don't know why they didn't work. Perhaps Amane managed to find their names and faces ahead of schedule from a confidant." He gave Light a meaningful look, though he knew that it was impossible for him to have collaborated with her.

"Don't turn this on me," Light hissed irritably. "You know that I wasn't responsible. And you can't try to tell me that Misa found their names and faces ahead of time—you would have been careful with their identities, hidden them from everyone."

"A malfunction in their helmets, then."

"In _all_ of their helmets? All at the same time? Don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"This unfortunate event was most likely the result of a manufacturing error in the helmets, or by Amane finding away around my efforts to protect my men. We cannot make assumptions based on such circumstantial evidence."

"But it _is_ still evidence," Light pointed out.

"Evidence of what, exactly?" _He's getting too close, beginning to suspect too much. I need to cut this off at the source._

The teen cocked his head to one side, glaring accusingly. "Evidence that you are Kira—or at least, one of them."

"That's ridiculous, Light. You shouldn't attempt to place blame on me for your own crimes."

He smiled without any sign of humor. "Tell me, Ryuzaki, did you have any part in this?"

"Of course I didn't, don't be absurd."

The teen edged closer, fingers curling and uncurling repeatedly as if he wished to strike L across the face. "I don't believe you."

" _Light."_ L closed his fingers around the teen's wrist. "I have already promised not to lie to you, and this is no exception. I am telling you the truth."

"Right, because _that's_ going to make me believe you. Whatever happened to gaining my trust? If you really wanted me to trust you, you'd tell me the truth."

L ground his teeth together, holding back his fury. "Come on," he snapped, realizing that people from outside were beginning to ask questions, curious about what had happened inside the Note Blue. "We'll deal with this later."

And Light, though clearly unhappy, didn't complain.

†††

The next few hours were a blur. There were sirens—sirens that flooded Aoyama, bouncing off the walls chaotically and stirring the crowd into a nervous frenzy. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, who had died, who had been arrested. But it wasn't long before those sirens transformed into visible police cars, and the NPA was there to hold off the masses. After that, there was a bothersome shuffle to the car, during which L kept Light uncomfortably close, and the teen kept himself deliberately removed from the situation. L was talking to him the whole way back to headquarters, even as he left him in his cell and locked the door behind him—but he wasn't paying attention.

_He killed them,_ Light thought, but he wasn't even entirely sure who _he_ was. _Kira cut them down like animals. How could he do such a thing? They were good men. I know that Kira has been killing countless criminals who didn't deserve death, but this…this is something else entirely. These people weren't criminals at all—they were officers of the law. They were just. They were_ good. _He's never done anything like this before, so…why? Why do this now? It served some kind of purpose, I know it did._

He knew what L would say. _Misa killed them to protect herself._

But just as Light knew what L would have said, he also knew that he was wrong. Misa couldn't have killed L's officers. _I'm certain that L would never have allowed his officers' names to exist somewhere Misa could find them. There's not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that it's impossible for Misa to have found those names ahead of schedule. That leaves the possibility that she killed them when they pulled their guns on her. If they got too close, maybe tilted their heads the wrong way, it's possible that she could have seen their names and enough of their faces to use those names, assuming she has the eyes. Except…that's impossible too. She was on her feet, hands clasped over her mouth, before she ever could have seen them. There was no chance for her to write their names, not while her hands pressed to her face. No…she was on her feet as soon as that random stranger pulled a gun on her._

And just like that, something clicked.

_Random? No, no…nothing in this game is ever random. Everything happens for a purpose, and this is no exception. Honestly, can I really just write the fact that someone pulled a gun on Misa on the exact day we were planning to arrest her as a coincidence? This was planned—and the only thing that could plan something like this is the Death Note. And…the only person who knew what we were planning to do that could_ possibly _have a Death Note…is L. But that's not all—like I said, there has to be a purpose. What would Kira have to gain by having someone pull a gun on Misa?_

The answer was obvious. The culprit—L, Kira, whoever—had been providing a distraction.

_So, then…something happened that I couldn't see. Something distracted me from a greater purpose. Something I couldn't see…like a shinigami._ Light remembered that Misa had a shinigami attached to her. She had been a thorn in Light's side, as referenced in several conversations he'd had with Misa in the notebook's story. But then, something had killed her. Light had never figured out just what, it was never referenced directly in his half of the story. However, he'd managed to pick something up about the way shinigami were killed from hints provided by the notebook. Shinigami could only be killed by intentionally extending the lifespan of a human.

Light's heart sank as the final piece clicked into place. _That person was pointing a gun at Misa. If the shinigami was there, then she would have gladly killed him for Misa. But if that person's name was already written in a notebook—probably by one of the Kiras in an attempt to spurn the shinigami into action—then the shinigami wouldn't technically be the one killing him, meaning she wouldn't die. If that was L's attempt to kill the shinigami, then he failed. And the deaths of those men… Someone—no,_ L— _wrote the names of his officers in advance. He wants me to think that Misa killed them—but in reality, someone else must have done it. And as I said, the only person who would have known the names of all those officers is L himself. So, L…is it true? Are you one of the Kiras? A third Kira? Do you have the notebook and the first half of the story? I've already voiced my suspicions, but this…this makes me even more certain that you're involved._

One way or another, Light knew that he'd uncovered L's plan. This attempt to capture the second Kira…it ran far deeper than anyone knew. L's plan had not just been to render the second Kira defenseless, but to get rid of the shinigami as well. And if it had worked, then would have been nothing standing in the detective's way. He could kill Misa, interrogate her, get away with _anything_ —and the shinigami wouldn't be around to stop him. Luckily, it hadn't worked. Or at least, Light suspected that it hadn't.

This outcome, while certainly not favorable for L, had provided Light with much valuable information. Now, for example, it was quite apparent that this _third_ Kira was L. He'd messed up—and he'd messed up badly.

Light had already shared his suspicions with the detective, but now he'd been given the final pieces to the puzzle. For one, L was the only one other than the task force and Light himself who knew the specifics of the plan, and therefore, how to exploit it to get what he wanted. He was the only one smart enough to pull off such an elaborate hoax—and the suggestion that he knew how to kill a shinigami only strengthened Light's belief that he had the other half of the notebook's tale. And if he had that, then he most certainly had a Death Note. That made him Kira.

"Oh, L," Light murmured aloud. "Why did you have to make it so obvious? I could have ignored it a little longer."

And that was the truth—Light _wanted_ to ignore the fact that L was Kira. He enjoyed the detective's company, enjoyed it more than the company of anyone else, and he didn't want it to end. If he ousted L as Kira, then what next? Would he return to his dull, boring life, with no sign of reprieve, or would L have something done to him? Something to put a permanent end to his antics? And what of Light's own identiy? He too was Kira. How could he report someone to the police for doing the same thing he was doing? It didn't make sense—he was trapped in the same predicament as L, the same perpetuity. _The cat's out of the bag now,_ Light thought bitterly. _I know who you are, and you know who I am. All that remains is to see who cracks first._

Light leaned his head back, and in moments he felt it press against the cool wall of his cell. He felt trapped, like an animal in a cage, incapable of breaking free. He supposed that was how L wanted him to feel. "You wanted me to work with you," Light whispered, well aware that L could be listening. "And if we're both…" He clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip. _If we're both Kira, then that's more possible than ever. We could work together, L. We could be Kira together. But how can I be sure that you won't get me to confess then have me executed? How do I know this isn't a ruse to become the sole owner of all the Death Notes, the sole Kira? I do want to trust you, but you need to admit something to me before I'll tell you who I really am. I need something from you—a great truth. But…even then…he's just murdered eleven innocent people. I want to stay, to work with him as I've always dreamed—but how can I condone such behavior? This isn't right. If I want to stay with him, then something will have to be done about the way he uses his notebook so terribly. After that…_

Light snapped his gaze up to meet the lens of one of the many cameras. He couldn't see L behind the lens, but he knew he was there, watching him like a hawk. It had only been a matter of days since he'd been imprisoned, but it felt like he'd been under L's observation for years. He was beginning to feel the need to escape, the need to get out of the cell for more than the few hours it had taken to retrieve the second Kira.

And speaking of her…what was L going to do to her? L hadn't exactly been kind to Light during his incarceration, what with all the psychological games, and L _liked_ him. Light couldn't even begin to imagine what L would do to someone he clearly didn't like. _I hate this,_ Light mused, shuffling about on the cot. _I can't stand just sitting here, waiting for L to come back and tell me what's happened. And even then, how can I trust him to tell me the truth? He could be torturing her right now for all I know—although if that's true, then I'm surprised that the shinigami hasn't killed him by now. That's going to be an issue for him, I think—finding a way around that shinigami. I hope that he's okay…and I hope that he hasn't harmed Misa._

But no matter how much he worried over Misa's fate, he knew that it wouldn't change a thing. The only thing he could do was sit and wait.

†††

A few rooms over, Misa Amane sat strapped to a chair, a dark-haired figure looming over her.

"Well," L said smoothly, hands gripping the edge of the table between them, face hidden beneath a mask. "Shall we begin?"

And Misa, unable to give a verbal response due to the gag pulled taut around her head, could do nothing but stare in horror at the person who had torn her world apart.

L seemed to take her silence as agreement. "Excellent. Then let's get started."


	21. The Knight of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you all have an amazing holiday!

"I'm going to start with an easy question, Miss Amane. Are you the second Kira?"

As expected, there was no response. Misa simply stared at the table before her, entire form limp beneath the ropes binding her to the chair.

L tried again. "Misa, I know that you are the second Kira. I have more than enough evidence to convict you here and now. But if you give me a confession, show some sign of remorse, then I swear to you that I will be able to keep you off death row."

She still didn't seem convinced. Her head shook slightly back and forth, but there was no sign that she intended to give a verbal response.

"Let me spell this out for you," L said, leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate his suspect further. "This is _very_ serious. You were found at the exact location the second Kira claimed she'd be—and while that could be written off as circumstantial, the fact remains that ten of my officers dropped dead of heart attacks mere moments after attempting to arrest you. And of course, we can't forget the lovely fact that the those officers were threatening you just before they died."

Misa shook her head again, harder this time.

"Your silence is doing you no favors, Amane. All I see is someone giving in to the urge to deny the truth that will eventually lead to their conviction."

The girl remained silent, clearly knowing that it was smarter to hold her tongue.

"Misa, this won't end well if you won't confess. Like I mentioned, I already have a plethora of evidence against you. It's circumstantial, yes—but circumstantial or not, it will be enough to have you convicted. At this point, the Japanese government is so desperate to terminate Kira that they'll eat up anything I tell them and beg for more. If I say you're Kira, they'll listen—and without that confession, I can't make the case that you feel remorse for your actions." He was playing a dangerous game, threatening Misa with death while her shinigami was presumably in the room. His mask would protect him, but for how long?

"I'm not Kira," Misa said dully, as if she herself knew it was pointless to deny it. She'd messed up, despite her obvious intelligence, and now she was backed into a corner. "And even if I am, there's not enough evidence to convict me."

"And I'm telling you that there _is._ If what I've already given you isn't enough, then all you have to do is wait until the report comes back from forensics on those tapes you sent in to Sakura TV."

"I didn't send in the tapes."

"But you did. And once the report comes back, I'll be able to match the carpet fibers and fragments of human hair found in the adhesive used to seal the envelopes with materials collected from your apartment, as well as that of the friend who helped you make the tapes." L felt a spike of smugness as Misa's eyes widened in alarm. _Reading the story in the Death Note again has really paid off. If I hadn't read it, then I wouldn't have known to put top priority on that forensics report. It could have taken a few days longer to come back, and that would be a few precious days knocked off my remaining time. My scheduled death is only a few months away, after all._ L said, "Surely you realize you're cornered."

"Who was that person?" Misa asked, clearly attempting to redirect the conversation.

"I assume you mean Light, but that's not important right now. What is important is that you tell me the truth."

Misa's jaw visibly clenched. "I'm already telling you the truth."

"Fine, then. I'll give you another chance to tell me the truth. How is it that you kill?" He knew, of course, that Misa used the Death Note to commit her murders. Again, it was merely for the sake of formality that he asked. If he had it on tape, there was no way anyone could deny that Misa was the second Kira.

"I've already told you that I don't kill!"

She kept spouting denial after denial. She sounded like Light—but with far inferior intelligence, of course. _Fine, then. Let's go for the shock tactic._ "I know about your shinigami and your Death Note, Amane. I know how the notebook works, and I know that you have a one of your own that you've been using to kill people."

"W-what? You have—" she cut herself off abruptly. "Shinigami? Death Note? What are those things?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And if you care about preserving your own life in the slightest, then you'll tell me where you've hidden your Death Note. I know you didn't have it on you in Aoyama, so it must be either hidden in your apartment or somewhere else entirely."

"I don't understand—"

"There's really no use in denying it. If you won't give me an exact location, I'll simply send a team of officers to your apartment and have it torn apart. You see, the instant I learned your name I did a bit of research on you. What's funny is that there is no written record of you entering Japan. According to the airline database, you never left America. And yet, here you are. You've even gotten yourself an apartment quite close to To-Oh University under a false identity that I managed to trace back to you. That's a bit suspicious, don't you think? Someone mysteriously arrives in Japan and just so happens to be present when ten people—all of whom were threatening that someone—are killed via heart attack."

Misa remained silent, most likely because she couldn't argue against such obvious evidence.

L, deciding to take a different approach now that Misa was cornered, took a small step back as to allow his suspect room to breathe. He needed to come off as truthful and genuine if he wanted Misa to believe him. "Misa," he said softly, wincing for the hundredth time at the familiarity of using her first name. "Like I said, things aren't looking good for you. If I were to send you to court right now with just the information I've acquired, I could have you sentenced to death. But I don't want to do that. It's clear to me that you don't deserve to die, not even after what you've done." He fought to keep a straight face, thinking, _yeah right, she deserves death more than anyone._ "I'm going to offer you the same thing I've offered the other Kira. If you confess, I'll make sure you get fair punishment rather than death. You won't be mistreated, I assure you." Well, she wouldn't be mistreated so long as L's plan to gain a confession worked. If she still refused to confess, then he had no qualms about harming her. He'd simply have to find a way around her shinigami.

Misa suddenly seemed quite interested in L's words—but not for the reason he would have thought. "Kira?" she asked, sounding almost stunned. "You have him?"

_Ah, of course…she's taken with Kira, even if she hasn't been brought to the obsessive levels displayed in the notebook's tale. It makes sense that she'd want him to be safe. Perhaps I can hold his captivity over her. If I need to, I can force Misa to watch me 'kill' Light the same way I killed Takada. That will break her for sure._ "Ah, forgive me for not telling you. Yes, I have the original Kira in custody. In fact, he's been under my care for quite some time now. That's how I know about your method of killing, you understand."

"Is he okay?" Misa asked, visibly worried. "What have you done to him?"

L waved a hand noncommittally. "Nothing he can't handle, I assure you. Tell me, Misa, do you admire Kira?"

"Of course I do," she responded quietly. "I've never denied it. Kira killed the people that murdered my parents, how could I not admire him?"

_Funny. If I told her that I was Kira—or at least, one of them—she'd join me without a second thought. But Light, the person I actually_ want _to join me, doesn't even show the slightest sign of agreeing to work with me. Not until he 'trusts' me, that is._ "And you would work with him if given the chance?"

"Without even a moment of doubt."

_Perfect. Well, she's told me enough to make me certain that she's the second Kira—not that I didn't already know that. And I was telling the truth when I said the courts would sentence her to death based only on the evidence I've already collected. If I want to keep her alive and keep Rem happy, though, I'll need that confession….hmm… Well, in any case, I should at least try to squeeze the notebook's location out of her before I cart her off to prison. Once I have her Death Note, I can decide where to go from there._

There were several options, really. He could send her to jail after revealing her as Kira to the public, keep her identity a secret, kill her himself…the possibilities went on and on. But before he could do any of that, he had to get his hands on that notebook, and he had to deal with that shinigami. It was especially crucial for L to get his hands on the Death Note, for if he couldn't find the notebook, then it would most likely be found by another human wherever Misa had hidden it. And if that happened, then he'd have yet another Kira on his hands. He could _not_ let that happen.

"I want to see Kira," Misa said, interrupting L's thoughts.

L almost laughed. "You're crazy if you think I'm bring the second Kira to the original. Although, if you really want to see him, then you telling me where you've hidden the notebook may facilitate that coming to pass."

The model's nose wrinkled as she protested, "I told you, I don't know what notebook you're talking about."

"If you want to see Kira, you'll tell me where your Death Note is."

"I won't!"

"You seem to be forgetting that Kira is in my custody. Would you prefer that I torture him in front of you in order to gain your notebook's location? I know how much you admire him, wouldn't you hate to cause him pain?" An ingenuous threat, but an effective one nonetheless. The fearful expression on Misa's face was almost comical as L's words reached her.

"You can't torture people!" she burst out. "That's against the law, even for a police officer!"

_I had this exact conversation with Light,_ L recalled with vague amusement. _But in any case, this is obviously an act. She has the shinigami eyes, according to the notebook. She can see my name—or rather, she saw my name in the café, in all likelihood._ "I am not a police officer. As you well know, I am someone with far more power."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped cattily. "If you're not a police officer then why are you holding me here. What authority do you have?"

L waited to see some glimmer of nervousness, the slightest hint of worry that would give Misa's words away as nothing more than a façade, a lie to trick L into thinking she didn't have the eyes, that she couldn't see his true identity. But all he saw was striking sincerity and a wealth of confused frustration. Misa wasn't acting. And that could mean only one thing.

"You don't have the eyes," he realized aloud. "You never accepted the shinigami eyes." It was just another discrepancy in the story. Something L had changed had led to Misa rejecting the eyes. He winced, wondering how drastically he may have altered the future.

Misa gave no response.

"Very well," L said somewhat shakily, stepping back. "If you have nothing else to say to me, I'll be leaving."

Still, there was no response.

L warned, "I'm going to send a team of officers to your apartment to search for the Death Note as soon as I leave. If you tell me where it is before that, then I can make your life here much easier."

Voice low and dangerous, she said, "I have no intention of telling you anything."

L's eyes narrowed. "So be it."

†††

Shortly after his conversation with Misa, L returned to the investigation room. He knew he should go to Light, speak to him for the first time after the incident—but he was determined to put that off for as long as possible. And so he went to the investigation room, and he explained the situation to the task force. He told them everything he could, making sure they knew that they had the second Kira in custody, and that they were only waiting for a bit more information before officially declaring her identity as the second Kira.

"Great," Matsuda groaned when he heard the news. "So what now? We don't have anything on the suspect!"

"We still have the right to detain her so long as we have probable cause," Soichiro asserted. "In that time, we should work to find some form of evidence."

"By doing what?" Aizawa asked drearily. "We'll need a search warrant to go through Amane's apartment, and by the time we get it we'll have expended all the time we can legally hold her without solid evidence."

L felt the eyes of the task force turn to him, clearly waiting for his input. "Well," he began slowly, "you're definitely right about being unable to get a search warrant in time. Even if I call in a favor, it'll still take several days—and by then, Misa will have to be released. So, then, we'll just have to search her apartment without getting a warrant." He'd already ordered his men to search the apartment, but the task force didn't need to know that.

Soichiro's response was swift and stone cold. "That's not happening. We could lose our jobs over something like that."

_So you'll risk your lives but not your jobs,_ L thought, vaguely irritated. "Gentlemen, we have an opportunity here. If we really have captured the second Kira, then finding evidence is crucial—even if it means breaking the law."

"No," Soichiro insisted. "We will not break the law to catch a criminal. That is not what the NPA does."

_Are you blind? If you just sit back and let Misa get away, we will have lost our only definite lead! Besides, it doesn't matter what you say—I've already sent my men to search that apartment._ He forced his expression to say neutral, fighting back his frustration. But then, before he could make his next attempt to persuade the task force to go along with him, Mogi spoke up.

"I think you're all ignoring the big picture."

There was immediate silence as the task force turned its attention to its quietest member. Mogi rarely spoke in the investigation room, but when he did it was nearly impossible to look away.

He went on, "You need to listen to Ryuzaki. If we don't take extensive measures to find evidence against the second Kira, she's going to walk free. Do you want more people to die? Because you're acting like you care more about keeping your jobs than stopping a bloodthirsty murderer."

_At least there's one sane person here._ "My thoughts exactly, Mogi. Members of the task force, I realize that you're concerned about breaking the law, but this is for the greater good. And as a compromise, I can send my own officers to conduct the search. If anyone ever finds out that we conducted a search without a warrant, I can claim that you never knew about it. You won't lose your jobs." _It's what I've already done, after all. It won't require any additional effort._

"So now we're breaking the law _and_ lying about it," Soichiro muttered, arms crossed defiantly.

"If this catches one of the Kiras, then we should do it," Mogi insisted. He turned his gaze on Aizawa, who sat beside him. "Isn't that the logical move?"

Aizawa, clearly uncomfortable, fidgeted in his seat. Torn between the opinions of his boss and his best friend, he appeared almost unable to speak. "Well…if you want the truth, then I think we should go along with Ryuzaki's plan. I know it's not right to break the law to catch a criminal, but it's our only option if we want to have a chance to save Kira's future victims."

And just like a lost lamb, Matsuda scrambled after the herd. "Yeah, totally! I mean, if we can stop Kira, we should go for it! Right, chief?"

Soichiro's jaw clenched. "Becoming a criminal to catch a criminal is wrong." He glared at L accusingly. "Is that not true?"

Soichiro was testing him. L could tell. "Of course," he responded unflinchingly, unwilling to let Soichiro rattle him. "It doesn't matter the cause, breaking the law is wrong. But in this case, the alternative is far worse. What we are doing is weighing two evils—searching a house without a warrant, or allowing thousands of people to die in the future."

The chief's glare increased in intensity, but he knew that he was both outvoted and beaten. He turned back to his computer screen, giving a short, precise nod. He offered no verbal agreement.

L waited only a moment longer before carrying on. "Well then, I suppose I'll contact my officers and—"

"No."

Soichiro's outburst was short and clipped, and entirely unexpected. "Chief Yagami, I thought you were in agreement—"

He interrupted him again. "I have agreed to go ahead with your plan. However, if this is going to happen, then the task force will be the ones conducting the search. You may bring in your officers to facilitate the proceedings, but we will be present. You've forced us to stay at headquarters too many times already."

_How bothersome. I'll be forced to deal with their presence while looking for the Death Note. How can I hide its existence? Or perhaps this is the time when I should reveal it as Kira's weapon. I could use Misa as a sacrifice by condemning her as Kira and having her executed. That would take care of her legally and without a fuss. After that, all I'd have to do is get a confession from Light, and I'd be home free._ Yes, that was it—that was the route he should take. He wasn't thrilled to bring the task force along with him, but it was necessary to keep them happy until they were no longer needed. "Very well. We will conduct our search upon arrival to headquarters tomorrow. Be prepared for what you may find."

†††

That night, after the task force left for home, L returned to Light. It wasn't a reunion he was especially looking forward to, which was why he'd put it off for well over twenty-four hours. He knew that Light had been shaken by the occurrence in Aoyama. The ten people, all killed by Kira, had had a surprisingly powerful effect on the teen. _It was a risky move,_ L knew. _I can only hope that I haven't overplayed my hand, given away my identity too soon. Light already suspected that I was L, and that L was Kira—but I fear that my actions may have cemented his suspicions. Either way, I don't suppose it matters. Soon he will know who I am, and I will know who he is. I will gain a confession, and I will confess in return._

L's plan, since Misa's capture, had all fallen into place. In fact, it had fallen into place so easily that he strongly suspected an unforeseen complication arising and throwing him off track. But if nothing arose, then his plan began with searching for Misa's Death Note. He suspected that she'd hidden it somewhere outside her apartment for security reasons, but if he could find it without having to extract its location from her forcefully it would make his plan much easier. If he couldn't find the notebook, then he would do the same thing to Misa that he'd done to Light. He would set Misa up in the detention cell, place a monitor in front of her, and force her to watch as L pumped Light's cell full of knockout gas (although, of course, Misa would believe that it was toxic gas instead). The idea was that upon seeing Kira—whose identity L would have long since revealed to Misa—about to be killed, she would admit the location of the notebook and confess to her being Kira. After that, L would retrieve the notebook and keep it for himself, finding a way to get rid of Misa's shinigami in the process. Then, using Misa's confession as evidence, he would send her to court and have her sentenced to death—but she would never reach death row. Mere hours after she was sentenced, L planned to kill her himself. He could take no chances with the second Kira; she had to be eliminated. Soon after that, he would gain a confession from Light. That was the one part of his plan that wasn't fully formed, other than the matter of how he would kill Misa's shinigami. He knew that he _would_ get a confession, it was just a matter of how long it would take after Misa's death. He hoped to strengthen his relationship with Light over the weeks that followed so that when the time came, it would take only a gentle nudge to send the teen over the edge. If he couldn't manage it, he'd have to restructure his plan around Light's lack of cooperation—but hopefully it wouldn't come to that. After Light's eventual confession, L planned to take him away to an "undisclosed location" for "psychological treatment"—or at least, that was what he'd tell everyone that asked. He would, of course, manipulate the courts into giving him possession of the original Kira so that the task force—specifically Light's father—couldn't protest. Once they were safely out of the way, L would force the NPA to disband the task force. In their parting moments, L would assure the task force that he would work endlessly until all traces of Kira were eliminated from the world. But with no task force to monitor his progress, he would never have to fulfill that promise. He could live his life as Kira, Light by his side, under the pretense of trying to catch Kira.

_Funny…_ he thought wearily. _All this trouble because of Light and his family. Light won't confess, and Soichiro won't let me do anything without opposing me at every turn. I wouldn't have to concoct this insane plan if Soichiro would just disappear and Light would just confess._

L found himself standing outside Light's room, having spent the entire journey deeply lost in thought. _Great,_ he thought forlornly. _Now I'm probably going to be yelled at by the person I'm trying to save. My relationship with Light was just beginning to brighten, too._ The detective took in a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he reached out and punched in the code to open the door.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. L could see Light, sitting cross-legged on the bed with his back to the door. The teen obviously knew he was there, if the slight tensing of his form had anything to say about it, but he didn't turn. L was distinctly aware that something between them had changed—something silent, something unspoken, something that no words could express. The entire room felt darker, heavier.

"You know," Light said in a low tone, "you've laid out a dangerous game, L."

L ignored the jab at his true identity. "Have I?"

"Yes, I believe you have." Light kept his back firmly to his tormentor. "Everything that's happened to me over the past month…everything you've said to me…everything you've _done_ …it's all been a collection of pieces. Of course, I figured that out a long time ago—that what you were doing was throwing me tiny bits and pieces of information. But what I didn't realize was that you'd already set up the board on which the pieces would be played."

_He knows. He's put it all together, just as I feared._

Light paused, waiting for L to respond. But when the only response he was given was the sound of the door closing, he went on without hesitation. "I've already shared my suspicious about what you've done. I've already shared my suspicious about your intentions, your identity, your morals. Of course, I have no way of proving it. To offer any form of evidence regarding what you're truly doing would be to hint that I know of how Kira kills—and if I acknowledge such a thing, then that makes me Kira. After all, how could I know the details of your killings unless I'd come into prior contact with it?"

_Oh? Interesting…you've practically just said that you know about the Death Note. What's with the change in attitude?_

A humorless laugh accompanied Light's next words. "But let's just pretend for a moment that I _do_ know about your method of killing. Let's pretend that you're not recording this, and that I can admit to anything without you dragging me away to my doom. If we entertain the thought that I know what it is that you're doing to kill people, that I know how it works, that I've seen it before, then suddenly all of this—" Light waved a hand to the surrounding world, gesturing to his surroundings in their entirety. "—makes a hell of a lot more sense. I can present a logical explanation for everything that's happened thus far. I can prove without a shadow of a doubt that you are not only L, but Kira as well. But at the same time, I _can't_ prove it—because all of the evidence hinges on my knowledge of Kira's methods of killing. And again, if I know about those methods, then I'm Kira." He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "You've really got me pinned down, L. Actually, it's not just me—it's the entire task force. You've manipulated them all, given them just enough information to keep them thinking that they can actually solve the case. And what's more, you've carefully constructed your case so that the only person who has the intellectual capacity to unravel your plan and prove your true intentions—i.e. _me_ —is unable to do anything to stop you. To repeat the obvious, if I try to stop you using the evidence I've collected, then it'll just make a stronger case for me being Kira. And because I'm unable to do anything to stop you, you can do anything you like. You can orchestrate the death of ten innocent people. You can capture Misa and torture her without anyone interfering—other than a certain shinigami, of course. You can get away with murder and claim it's for the greater good."

L struggled to retain his composure. _Foolish Light, it_ is _for the greater good! I am manipulating everyone to save the world from_ you! "Surely you realize that by saying this at all you're giving me more evidence to use against you. What you've told me paves the way for your conviction. I must know, Light—why would you say such a thing now, after so much resistance?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Light snorted. "I haven't confessed anything to you, nor do I intend to. Nothing I've said here can be used against me." And even though it wasn't exactly true, he looked so convinced that L almost started to believe him.

"But _why…?"_

Light's shoulders slumped, and if he'd been facing L, the detective was sure that his expression would be one of exhaustion. "To put it simply, now that I see just how manipulative you've been, I don't think it matters what I say or what I do. It doesn't matter if I never confess—you'll manipulate the task force and the outside world into believing that I'm Kira. It's funny, really. This whole time you've made me believe that my confession is imperative, that it's crucial to your plan. And yet now I see that it's not true. When you get tired of waiting, if I haven't confessed, I'm sure that you'll find a way to prove me guilty. So in the end, it doesn't really matter what I do."

"You're wrong," L blurted out without thinking.

"Really? Because so far, I've seen nothing to disprove my theory."

And even though he'd just denied it, L knew that it was true. _You're right, Light…I value a confession from you above all else—but it's not the only way I can have you convicted. If the time came, and you hadn't confessed…I would have the power to make sure you stayed with me. Even if I didn't want to use it._

"Well…" L began, slowly making his way towards the bed, "maybe you haven't seen any evidence because you haven't been paying attention." It sounded pathetic, even to _his_ ears.

Light made a strange sound, somewhere between laughter and a dry choking noise. "I know you killed those people, L. After all this bullshit about only killing the people who deserve it, and Kira being evil, and the concept of 'the greater good' being a myth, and then you do something like this. It's very out of character, you know."

L inched even closer, crawling up onto the bed beside Light. He pulled himself forward until he was crouching directly beside him. He felt the momentary urge to drape one of his arms around his friend's shoulders in a display of comfort, but he doubted Light would appreciate the gesture. Even after that kiss, which now seemed like weeks ago, they weren't on friendly terms. Not after what L had done. "Are you upset?"

Light shrugged, seeming unsurprised at L's indirect admission of guilt. "I was. I think I still am."

"Those people didn't die for nothing, you know. Their death led to the capture of the second Kira."

"They were innocent," Light responded quietly, his gaze firmly fixed on the wall before him. "Innocent people should never be sacrificed, not even for someone's twisted definition of the greater good."

_That doesn't sound like Kira. That sounds like…well, it sounds like_ Light. _I keep waiting for him to show some sign of a vicious nature, but it never happens. It's like the version of Light in the story of the Death Note and this version are completely different. But no, I can't let him fool me—he has the potential to become evil, no matter how nice he seems now. I have to stay on my guard._ But the thoughts were half-hearted at best, and L found himself believing more than ever that Light's heart remained clean of evil intentions. _Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps, just this once, I've judged someone incorrectly._

"I'm tired," Light admitted after a moment, breaking the hollow silence.

L shot him a sideways glance, but the teen refused to meet his gaze. "Tired?" he echoed. "You had all day to sleep."

"That's not what I meant." Light shifted, fingers curling and uncurling rhythmically. "I'm tired of this game we've been playing."

And L had to agree. It was clear at this point that Light knew who he was, and L was certain he knew who Light was. It would be so much easier if they could just admit it to each other and be done with it. Admittedly, there wasn't much else L could do—other than convicting the second Kira—before he hit a wall due to Light's lack of cooperation.

"Look, L…I think we can agree that we've both hit a wall. I know who you are. You know who I am. But neither of us are going to admit it, because the instant we do, it can be used as evidence against us."

"Used as evidence against _you,"_ L corrected. "You're the one under suspicion here, not me."

"Do you honestly think my father wouldn't jump at the opportunity to accuse you of being Kira?" Light scoffed. "He hates you for what you've done to me—and he doesn't even _know_ what you've done to me."

"It hasn't been so bad here, has it?" L asked, though he already knew the answer. He'd manipulated Light ruthlessly, interrogated him without end, made him believe his friend was dead…the list went on.

"It could be worse."

"Really?" It hadn't been the answer L was expecting. He'd been expecting something along the lines of, _my time here has been indescribably horrific,_ or _I'd rather have my eyes jabbed out with hot needles than remain here for a moment longer._ But instead, Light's tone was almost wistful. "How do you figure?"

"Well…" he smiled lightly. "You could be an idiot, for one. What would I do without someone intelligent to talk to?"

L's fingers twitched as the urge to reach out to his companion intensified. Light sounded so vulnerable, so _weak—_ it made his well-hidden sadistic side purr with anticipation. "Yes," he agreed in a slightly strained tone, "I've found myself thinking the same thing." His fingertips inched across the sheets subtly, stretching outwards. He reached out, hand brushing against Light's knee, half expecting the teen to jerk away. But much to his satisfaction, he didn't so much as twitch.

"Are we done playing games?" Light asked dully. "I'm tired, L."

"We can't be done until you give me a straight confession," L reminded him, wincing at just how cold he sounded. He didn't want to antagonize Light further—or if he did, he was very good at hiding it—but he needed a confession if he wanted to get Soichiro off his back.

Light shifted suddenly, glancing to him momentarily. He seemed to be making an effort to avoid L's gaze, as if looking directly at him would immediately entrance him. "Tell me, L—you want a confession so that you can send me to court and be given authority to do what you want with me, correct? You want a confession so you can force my father to believe that I'm Kira, and so that he won't come after me once you've whisked me away."

"Yes, that is correct."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Yes, Light, it is. I admit that I have the power to take you away from this place without a confession, but your father will never leave it alone. He'll keep coming after me, keep trying to get you back—and knowing him, he'll find a way to make my life incredibly difficult until I give you back. This way I can kill two birds with one stone. I can get rid of your father's interference and I can have _you_." Even L was uncomfortable with how enthralled he sounded at the idea. Light, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed.

"If that's all, then…there's another way."

L's head snapped up. "What?"

Now Light did turn to look at him, though he still appeared slightly guarded. "I can just say that I want to go with you."

For a long moment L was confused. "What?" he repeated. "How does that solve anything? Your father will still be after me, and—"

"No, L. He won't be after you because I will have personally told him that I want to go with you."

"But…no, that doesn't change anything. Your father will believe that I've threatened you into claiming that you want to stay with me."

"Not if you let me talk to him without your supervision. If I can have a few minutes alone with my father in an unmonitored place, I'm sure that I can convince him I'm telling the truth."

L hesitated. "Will…will it really be that easy?"

"It will."

Light's plan wouldn't work, L thought—there were too many loopholes, too many things left undiscussed.

"Then explain it to me," Light said, and L realized that he'd spoken aloud.

_What do I say? 'Hey, Light, let me just whisk you away from everything you've ever known and teach you how to kill people correctly.' That hardly seems like the right thing to say._ "I'll have to teach you," he started uncertainly, second-guessing his words more and more with every passing second. "I'll have to show you how to rid the world of criminals the _right_ way."

"I have never killed an innocent person," Light whispered, and L commended him on his phrasing—if anyone were to look over the tapes in an attempt to find evidence against him, his words would sound completely innocent. But L knew the meaning behind them.

"If you remain without a mentor," L warned, "you _will_. I've seen it."

"You've _read_ it," Light corrected—and L was struck with the realization that Light was the one who had the first half of the story.

L gave a brief nod, his calm expression a sharp contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling beneath the surface. "You could say that."

Light turned away, eyes locking back onto the wall, his brief confrontational moment over. He, like L, appeared calm—but the whirring gears of his mind were visibly turning just beneath the surface. "So what do we do now?"

"Well…" L inched subtly closer. "You could start by telling me you want to stay."

The teen shot him a slightly irritated look, immediately looking like his normal self. "Who said I wanted to stay?"

"You did," L shot back, a small smile fighting its way to the surface. "Don't even try to pretend you were lying."

"Hmph."

L took it as confirmation. "So, now that we've figured that out, would you like to confess?"

Ah, _there_ was that flame of anger L was so associated with. "You don't need a confession from me. It's safer this way, anyways—after all, if I confessed to being Kira, then you would have ample ammunition to have me executed. This way, it's easier for both of us. I don't have to admit to anything, and you can't have me executed. But, on the other hand, if _you_ wanted to confess…"

"Now, Light," L chastised, "surely you can't expect me to give you a confession if you won't give me one in return." _No…I'm fully wiling to tell Light my true identity, but first he has to show me that he isn't deceiving me by doing this._ L bit back a chuckle, realizing that similar to Light, he was withholding the admission of his identity until he knew he could trust his companion. _We make quite the pair,_ he thought wistfully. _Or, we_ would _make quite the pair…_

"One more thing," Light requested, breaking L from his thoughts. "I get to work in the investigation room."

"No." The response was so fast that it seemed almost pre-programed—and it was. L had been expecting Light to begin pushing to work in the investigation room for several days now, and it was no surprise that he was asking now that they were on better terms. "I know what happens after you begin to work in the investigation room, and I can't allow that to happen."

Light's eyes flashed with curiosity before he replied, "What happens?"

L fixed him with his hardest stare. "It's better that you don't know." He was fairly certain that telling his would-be killer (even if it was only be extension) that he was going to kill him (again, only be extension) was a bad idea.

Light sighed deeply, imploring, "Look…don't you think it'll be a bit suspicious if I just show up one day and claim that I want to keep working with you? It'll look like Stockholm Syndrome. Hell, this entire thing _reeks_ of Stockholm Syndrome no matter how you look at it. But if you let me out, let me work with you, give me a bit of freedom, then it'll look like I made the decision myself."

"If I give you freedom, then you'll start killing," L protested immediately, shaking his head. "I can't have that happen. You need time to learn, to understand—"

"Shut it, L. The fact is, if you want to get my father off your back, you're going to have to either get a confession—which, again, is _not_ happening—or you'll need me to make a convincing argument for me going with you. And in order to make that argument, I'll need you to let me out of this place. I'm sick of being confined, in any case. I think I'm about to go stir crazy."

"I could always torture a confession out of you," L suggested, knowing full well that while that may have been a viable option in the beginning, he'd long since fallen past the point at which he would have been able to do such a thing. Light seemed to know it as well.

"If you were going to torture me—at least, _physically_ —you would have done it by now. You wouldn't have spent so many days holding me here, doing nothing, if you planned to just torture the information out of me."

The detective gave a small shrug. "Worth a shot."

"It might have worked if you'd told me that in the beginning, before I got to know you."

_Before you got to know me…_ L scoffed at the thought, but he knew that it was true. Light did know him, at least in part. In fact, he probably knew him better than anyone else. He even knew him better than Watari—after all, the inventor had been kept at arm's length for almost L's entire life, and was only allowed to supervise the external factors of each case. He'd never been allowed more than small glimpses into L's mind. Not like Light, who had somehow managed to crack the detective's head open and sift through the contents in a matter of weeks.

"You should turn the cameras off," Light requested.

L was silent for a long moment before responding. "Yes," he murmured, "I believe I should. And…just to be safe, I'll have to delete this conversation. What we are about to speak of…it's…"

"Not for all ears," Light supplied helpfully.

L dipped his head briefly. "Excuse me for a moment. I will take the necessary precautions."

†††

_So, the gig is up,_ Light thought with vague amusement, watching as the door swung closed behind L. _Looks like I was right all along—Ryuzaki is L. And if L's reaction is anything to go off of, then he's definitely Kira._ The teen ran a hand through his hair in a frazzled manner, mind whirring at top speed as he attempted to process what had just happened. All logical thought seemed scrambled; he felt almost overwhelmed. _So…what now? It's not like the barriers between us have become any less clouded. Yes, we've danced around our identities, but what are the terms of our relationship now? Are we still supposed to act like enemies, or are we something more? Friends? Allies? He's kissed me, so does that make us…?_

In any case, Light supposed that the next step would be comparing notes regarding the Kira Case. It was obvious that L had the other half of the story, which explained quite a bit. It made sense now, why L had been so adamant about him being Kira. The Death Note wouldn't have mentioned any names directly, but there must have been enough information to identify Light with a certain degree of assuredness. _That must be what he needed to arrange the task force for,_ he realized. _It's puzzled me since the beginning that he even bothered to gather agents that are so clearly below his level, but if he needed them in order to figure out their relation to Kira, then it makes much more sense. But what doesn't make sense is why he hasn't just tortured a confession out of me. He kept threatening, kept showing me flashes of the horrors he could put me through…but he never went through with it. He just seemed to soften with time, so much so that he…he kissed me._

And now he was back to thinking about the kiss—the event that had happened several days past, and the event that Light had buried in the depths of his mind purely out of confusion. It shouldn't have been so confusing, he thought—he felt a deep series of ties binding him to L, ties that ran beneath the emotionless surface and into the guarded soul. He knew he was attracted to him, knew that it went the opposite way as well. But after the kiss, L had just…stopped. He hadn't made a move since, and although there had been light touches and lingering glances shared between them (both things that seemed especially prominent in the conversation they'd just had) L hadn't started anything, and Light hadn't had the courage to take control. Much to his irritation, this infatuation he had with his captor seemed to have taken hold of his confidence and twisted it into insecurity. _If we're going to work together, then perhaps I can build up the courage,_ he suggested silently. _Perhaps I can rebuild what's left of my pride, what's left of my confidence. Perhaps I can make this work._

But then again, what would working with L entail? The detective had been using the Death Note to kill innocent people, he'd been using it like _Kira_ in the story of the notebook. And yet L had promised to show Light how to use the notebook the _right_ way, as if killing innocents was _right. L…just what have you been doing this whole time? What is it you think you can teach me? Because the way I see it, I should be the one teaching you—teaching you not to kill_.

The door creaked back open, and Light's gaze was drawn to it. The teen found himself feeling rather alarmed as he realized that he didn't know what he should do next. Should he reveal everything to L right off the bat? He reminded himself that he didn't know if he could fully trust L just yet, and resolved to be cautious, at least until he knew L's plan for the second Kira and just what he intended to teach him.

"Back so soon?" he asked, putting on a façade of carelessness.

L shrugged, dragging the door closed behind him as he entered. "The cameras are off," he reported. "Now, Light, I think it's time we had a little talk."

The teen began to dip his head in agreement, when something caught his eye. He froze in place, barely keeping his jaw from dropping. _No…it can't be…so soon? Is this another attempt to shock me into admitting something? But no, I've already indirectly confessed, so what could he be after?_

"You seem surprised," L murmured, seeming acutely aware of how Light's eyes were glued to the object clenched in his left hand.

"I, ah…wasn't expecting you to…" Light trailed off, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

L moved closer with large, bold steps, and the teen found himself slightly frightened even though he knew—or at least strongly suspected—that the detective had no intention of harming him. "Like I said," he asserted, "we have a few things to talk about."

Then he snapped his arm out suddenly, the object flying from his fingers in Light's direction, and the teen reached out to catch it without thinking. He held it gingerly, as if he suspected it to bite him, as he opened the front cover to the first page. Then he looked up at L, who was suddenly standing much closer than before.

"The cameras are really off?" Light whispered, eyes locking onto the notebook in his hands. "And you're really trusting me to hold this?"

"You don't exactly have a pen," L pointed out.

"Blood will work just as well," Light reminded him, voice increasingly shaky. "All I'd have to do is knock you out and use my teeth to draw blood…"

The detective's smirk was immediate and unexpected. "I like the way you think, but…" he leaned even closer, and Light was uncomfortably aware of their proximity. "The fact that you're telling me that makes me certain that you won't try it. And besides, you wouldn't be able to knock me out if you tried. I know I don't look it, but I'm _much_ stronger than you."

"Hey, that's not—!"

L cut him off with a low hum of irritation. "You have the book. Are you going to read it or not?"

"I'm reading it, I'm reading it!" the teen huffed, holding the notebook up before him exaggeratedly. It was then that it hit him—just what he was holding, just what it meant. What greater sign of trust was there than this? What could L have done to better prove that he trusted him, at least to a certain degree? What could he have done save for placing in Light's hands the only evidence that existed of his treachery?

Light gingerly pinched the first page between his thumb and index finger, examining it closely.

_November 23, 2003—Kira finds the Death Note._

And with those words, and the ones that soon followed, Light began to connect the pieces of the puzzle.


	22. The Hermit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's! Here's to watching 2016 die the slow and painful death it deserves :)

"So?" L asked when Light was done reading, about thirty minutes later. "What do you think?"

Light looked up at the detective, hardly able to believe what he'd just read. "Wow…" he whispered. "All of that happens? Really?"

L shrugged, clarifying, "Well, I've noticed that not everything seems to be happening as it's supposed to. The further along we get in the story, the less the notebook is able to predict what happens."

"It's a direct result of you manipulating the circumstances under which certain events occur," Light realized. "You've been playing god, changing things—and the more things change, the more the story deviates from its intended path. I wonder…will the world around us work to correct those changes, or will we be allowed to change whatever we like?"

"You know as much as I do," L responded, sounding slightly irritated, no doubt at the prospect of not knowing something. "No, wait—you know more than I do, seeing as you've read my half of the story and I haven't read yours. If you'd give me the location of your notebook, then we could become equals once again."

_It's quite a risk,_ Light realized, _showing me this. If I refused to tell him the location of my notebook, then I'd immediately have the advantage. Luckily for him, I don't think refusing is my best option at this point._ "So you want the same thing you wanted before—to know where the notebook is."

"Yes," L confirmed. "There are, in fact, two things that I need. I need your notebook, and I need Misa's. Unfortunately, your notebook is not in your house, and Misa's is not in hers. As a result, I've come to a bit of a standstill. I know that I can gain a confession from Misa with a bit of work, but it means nothing if I can't acquire her notebook as well. After all, so long as that notebook is floating around, it poses a threat to me—to _us."_

"I see. So we form a begrudging partnership to bring all the notebooks under our protection?" Light was aware of the sudden dark edge to his voice, but he found himself unable to change it. The way L said it made it sound like he was just using him to get to both his and Misa's notebooks.

L, seeming to understand the rift he risked creating, shook his head immediately. "Not begrudging, no. I've already told you, Light, I _want_ to work with you. You're the closest thing I've found to an equal, and I believe I've already made it obvious that I desire you in your entirety."

Light's teeth snapped down on his tongue, cutting off the fiery retort he'd been planning to shoot back. "Some _desire,_ L—you've barely touched me in the past week."

"A-ah, well…" he stuttered. "I've been busy."

How adorable—he'd been too uncertain to make a move. "You've been in here for hours almost every day. You had ample time then, and you have ample time now—so don't try to tell me you've been busy."

L's expression, a mix of confusion and alarm, was nearly enough to break Light from his angered façade. In truth, the teen was somewhat amused by L's obvious uncertainty about when and how he should act.

"Light," L attempted weakly, "I—I apologize, but…"

_Dear god, he has to stop making that face. It's impossible to maintain a consistent expression of frustration under these conditions!_ "Okay, okay," Light said suddenly, breaking L out of his stuttering (which, as he would realize later, had been just as calculated and intentional as the rest of him). "As you've probably figured out, the notebook is hidden away outside the house."

"You know," L snorted, "you don't have to keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Calling the Death Note 'the notebook' and saying 'the house' instead of 'my house.' The cameras are off, so you can stop being vague. Say what you mean and stop making me guess."

Slightly embarrassed, Light stuttered out an agreement. "Fine, then. The…the Death Note is hidden somewhere safe."

"Tell me where it is and I will retrieve it."

Light shook his head, waving his hands about in disagreement. "Oh no you don't, L. If you really want to work together, then I insist that we do _this_ together. If you want to know where the Death Note is, then I'll just have to show you."

"You know that I can't just let you—"

Light raised a brow as L cut himself off, seeming to realize that now that he'd agreed to work with him, it was unreasonable to keep him locked up like a suspect. "It's that or nothing, L," Light insisted, giving voice to his thoughts. "I know you're not eager to trust me in full—and as a matter of fact, I'm not eager to entirely trust _you_ —but if you want us to become partners in _any_ sense of the word, then we have to start somewhere. And letting me out of the cell would be a pretty good place to begin."

There was a tense moment of silence as L watched him, eyes narrowed in thought. But after a moment he conceded, shoulders slumping slightly as he nodded his head. "You're right. I will release you long enough to find the Death Note. But after that, the terms of your confinement—or lack thereof—will have to be renegotiated."

"Agreed." Light thought back to L's earlier words— _I will teach you how to use the notebook correctly._ He reasoned that L wouldn't want to let him run loose where he may be able to get his hands on a notebook until he was taught the "proper" way to use it—although Light suspected that the so-called proper way was no different than how he'd already been using the Death Note to commit murders.

"So," L said, "where have you hidden the notebook?"

Light thought back to the compartment he'd carved into the fallen tree. "I'm surprised you haven't found it already." He rose from the bed, wincing as his stiff muscles protested the movement. "Come on. I'll show you where it is."

†††

_I don't like this. I don't like this one bit._

L's eyes tracked Light's nervous shuffling out of the corner of his eye, fighting his own nervousness as the car they were in surged towards their destination. L, still unwilling to let Watari in on what was happening, had slipped out of the building and decided to drive the car himself. It was a rather strange experience; L wasn't often the one driving his own vehicle or doing _anything_ for himself, really. And he _especially_ wasn't normally the one going out into the field—although he supposed that that had been becoming less and less true as of late. And besides that, could he really trust Light in such close proximity to a notebook? _Well, it's a bit late to be having_ that _concern—after all, I did throw my notebook at him. He was holding it; he could have found a way to write someone's name. Even mine, if he had the eyes. But still, I don't like having him out of his cell, not while he hasn't been taught how to use the notebook the ethical way. I'll have to make that my first priority after I've retrieved his notebook and obtained the location of Misa's._

The detective kept one eye on the road and one eye on Light as the teen continued to fidget. He was probably questioning the wisdom behind letting L have his notebook, and questioning the wisdom of being around him in general. L pitied him—after all, he was feeling quite the same way.

"Turn right," Light instructed in a murmur, breaking the tense silence.

L obeyed without so much as a nod, and realized that he was taking them towards Light's house. _I've already searched his house, and I've torn the forest clearing apart. Is it hidden somewhere else in the forest? Perhaps buried?_

"Left," Light spoke up again.

The car jolted to the left. L drove in silence, now knowing where they were and strongly suspecting where they were going. And sure enough, when they reached the right spot, Light spoke again.

"Stop."

L brought the car to a halt, turning it off and pocketing the keys. A moment later he opened the door and stepped out, vaguely recognizing that Light was doing the same. "So," he murmured once he was back beside Light, subtly taking in the world around them, "this is it?"

Light gave a shallow nod, breath audibly short.

"Well, then. Shall we go?"

Another shallow nod. Then Light stepped forward, neck slightly craned to look up at the space above his head, and began to walk.

They were back at the entrance to the forest. It was the path that led from the school to Light's house, the path that was so seldom trodden that it could barely be distinguished from the surrounding undergrowth that covered the ground. It was very dark, seeing as L had taken them on their little expedition at four in the morning (because of course, the only time L had to spend with Light was now in the earliest hours of the morning), and the trees were inky black outlines against the darkened sky. There wasn't even enough moonlight by which to see, seeing as the moon was currently veiled beneath a sheet of clouds.

"It's dark," L said, pointing out the obvious. "Are you sure you can find your way? We wouldn't want to get lost in there."

"The forest isn't that large," Light responded thoughtlessly, leading the way forward. "We could walk from one end to the other within two days, so there's really no chance of getting lost to the degree that we couldn't find our way out. And besides, I've spent a lot of time in here, walking this path and exploring beyond it. I'm sure that I can keep us on the right track, even if there's not much light."

"Okay, then," L said. His voice nearly caught in his throat as he uttered his next words. "I trust you."

Light froze in his tracks, and L, unable to see more than a few inches in front of him, immediately slammed into the teen's back.

"Hey," he protested. "What…?"

"Sorry," the teen muttered, though his tone was pensive and distracted. He turned around, and the next moment L saw what he thought to be a hand being thrust in his direction. "I just thought…well, you don't know the forest as well as I do, and you might trip if you don't stay close. So if you don't mind…?"

L understood what he was asking, and just because he knew Light couldn't see him, he smiled. "Of course," he said, reaching out and taking the teen's hand. "Lead on."

Light's eyes, the only thing L could clearly see in the darkness, adopted an amused slant. Then he turned, leaving L nothing to look upon but a vague splotch of darkness in front of him. Light's fingers felt unnaturally cold in his, and L found himself squeezing them tightly in a subconscious attempt to warm them. He turned his head from side to side as they moved, trying futilely to see the trees sprouting up on either side of him. But it was entirely impossible to see anything—and so the only thing L could do was stick close to Light and try not to trip over the plentiful foliage sprouting up all over the narrow path.

"Careful," Light said after a few minutes of walking. "There's a branch in front of us."

"How can you see it?" L questioned, squinting at the ground.

"I can't. It's been here for years; I have to step over it every time I come here. It's not large, but you may trip over it if you're not careful." He pulled L forward a few more feet. "Here it is. Step high and you should be fine."

L heard a slight rustling, then felt Light's hand tugging him forward. The detective, listening to Light's suggestion, raised his foot high in an attempt to keep himself from tripping. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance just by an inch—and when he brought his foot down, it was directly on the branch, which, he found, was much larger than Light had made it out to be. L let out a sharp yelp as he felt his weight shift forward just a bit too far. "Light—!"

"L, what—? Hey!" Light's words ended in a sharp huff of breath as the detective lost his balance and crashed into him clumsily. The next moment passed in a flash of confusing movement—and when L next managed to regain his sense of direction, he realized that he was lying on his stomach—and there was something very warm and soft beneath him. L groaned, head spinning from the brief fall as he slowly pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Uh…L?"

L groaned again, eyes opening hazily. It took a moment for the blurriness of his vision to fade. But when he did, all he could see were two amber orbs gleaming up at him from close proximity. _Oh. Well…this is slightly awkward._

"Could you…get off?" Light requested breathlessly. "You knocked the breath out of me when you fell. Didn't I tell you to step high?"

"U-um, of course," L stuttered, hardly able to believe the situation he'd gotten himself into. "Sorry." He shuffled about for a moment, barely managing to get his knees beneath him, entirely distracted by Light's proximity to him. _Come on, get it under control! Just because he's suddenly agreed to work with you doesn't mean that you can start letting your guard down around him! If you give in to your emotions, do it after you've taught him how to use the notebook for justice—do it after he's not a threat to both himself and you!_

Shaking his head lightly, L swiftly pushed himself off his companion. "Sorry about that," he repeated, offering Light his hand.

The teen allowed L to pull him to his feet, a strange expression on his face. "Yeah…no problem." He kept his hold on L's hand even after he got to his feet. "We…we're almost there. Come on."

L nodded, though he suspected it was far too dark for Light to see it. The teen tugged him forward once again, and they resumed their trek through the forest. Luckily for L, the journey didn't last much longer. A few minutes later Light drew to a halt, saying, "Okay, we've made it. We're about to step into the clearing."

And indeed they were—for a moment later, the ground evened out beneath L's feet, and he found himself no longer surrounded by the dark, looming figures of the oak trees that filled the forest.

"It's in the clearing?" L asked, confused. "I already searched this place thoroughly. Where could you possibly have hidden it?"

"If you really searched thoroughly, then you would have found it." Light continued moving forward, and L's vision was increasingly obscured by another dark blob that grew closer and closer as he moved. It didn't take long for him to figure out that they were walking towards the great tree that had fallen across the center of the clearing. "Now," Light said, "it may be a bit tricky to find the notebook with so little light."

"We should have brought a flashlight," L grumbled, squinting at the trunk of the felled tree.

"If only the moon would—"

As if on cue, the clouds around the moon began to drift apart. They didn't fade entirely, but when they did, the light of the moon was just barely able to penetrate the thick darkness surrounding the clearing. For the first time, L was able to see more than a few inches in front of his face—and when he turned his gaze on Light, he found that the teen was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, at least we can see," L pointed out.

"Yeah…" Light trailed off hesitantly. "You should, ah…let go of my hand so I can get the notebook."

And L, feeling a rather uncomfortable pang of reluctance, slowly uncurled his fingers from around Light's. The teen gave him a grateful nod before taking off in the direction of the tree. L followed a few feet behind. His eyes tracked Light's movements carefully, wanting to see every minute motion in case he had to find this hiding place again in the future.

Light stopped at the felled tree, kneeling down on the damp earth. He reached out both hands, and as L drew up behind him, the teen pressed his palms to the decaying oak. He hummed thoughtfully, running his hands down the trunk of the tree. "I could have sworn it was around here." His fingertips scoured the area for a few moments longer before he announced, "Oh, there it is." L watched as the teen dug his nails into a part of the tree the detective could barely see and pulled with all his strength. The rotted wood creaked loudly, protesting as Light forcibly removed what appeared to be a narrow plate of bark that was about half an inch in height and a foot in width. "Here, hold this."

L reached out and took the bark, turning it over and examining it. "Interesting…this is supposed to be a kind of door, no? It hides the compartment where you've hidden the notebook?"

"Yeah, exactly. I dug beneath the surface of the tree at the far end and carved this piece out."

"I see. That way, if I happened to find my way here and search the tree, I wouldn't have noticed a section of bark missing, which would have made me suspicious that something was hidden inside the tree."

"Precisely." Light turned his attention back to the tree, wedging his fingers into the narrow compartment in the tree.

"You know," L said as Light searched, "I really didn't think you were going to show me the location of your notebook. I thought you were going to try to create a diversion and escape." He waited for Light to respond. But upon hearing nothing but silence, he continued. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is thank you for beginning to trust me, even if it's only a little."

There was still no response.

"Light?" L asked, feeling worried. "Is something wrong?" He tried to peer over the teen's shoulder, but his body was blocking the space in front of him.

Still, there was silence. And then, after a long pause, Light spoke. "You might want to save your thanks for later, L."

"What? Why is that?"

Light drew away from the tree in a rush of movement, turning to face L. And to his confusion, L saw that his expression was one of horror and fear. L opened his mouth to inquire again, but he didn't need to, for a moment later the teen spoke—and what he said shook L's entire world.

"L…the Death Note is gone."

†††

The doors of task force headquarters burst open, and all at once, a flood of noise echoed through the building's halls.

"—I'm _sorry_ , I have no idea what—"

"—can't _believe_ that you let this happen—"

"—L, I promise you that I really don't—"

"—you _lied_ to me—"

The two voices cut each other off at every turn, one furious and one defensive, both speaking in loud and abrasive tones, voices increasing in volume with every second.

"L," the first person pleaded, "I told you I was sorry, I really don't know what happened!"

"You're an _idiot!"_ the second person snarled, clearly beside himself with anger. "I tried to trust you, tried to help you become something more than a murderer, and this is how you've repaid me!"

"You can't seriously be blaming me for this! I'll admit that I was the one who hid the notebook in the tree, but I had no idea someone would find it and take it! It was so well hidden that even _you_ couldn't find it, from what you've told me! How the hell was I supposed to know this would happen?"

"It doesn't matter what you knew! What matters is that now someone is out there with one of the Death Notes!"

And the first person—Light, of course—responded in a voice that had lost most of its anger. "Well, at least it explains why Ryuk hasn't been around in a while."

L stormed further into the building, fists clenched, jaw tight, mind whirring with unfathomable anger. _I try to trust him, and this is what he does? I thought I could trust him to keep the Death Note safe!_ L was so furious at Light's stupidity, so enraged by his mistake, that he found himself unable to think straight. His normally analytical brain was shut down in an uncontrollable fit of anger, and all he could see was red as he whirled around to face his companion. Light was several feet behind him, hands shoved into his pockets in a weak attempt to look passive, head tilted towards the ground in something resembling a defensive kind of guilt. The teen _knew_ that it was his fault, _knew_ what he had done—but he refused to admit it. L growled, the sound low and animalistic, as the anger boiling within him only increased.

Light seemed to sense the danger he was in. "L," he pleaded, tone dropping to one of desperation. "Please, this isn't my fault! I understand why you're upset, but you must understand that this is only the fault of the person who stole my notebook!"

"This is your fault for not hiding the notebook properly!"

_"You_ couldn't find it!" Light protested, sounding a bit like a broken record.

L scoffed at the thought. _A broken record, huh?_ _Well if you keep this up, you'll certainly be broken._

Light stepped backwards, seeming almost frightened by the murderous expression on L's face. "L…"

The detective wasn't thinking clearly. He knew he shouldn't act, knew that he needed to clear his head—knew that something was clouding his vision—but his anger was far stronger than his common sense. He took a step towards Light.

"L?" Light repeated. "Are you…?"

"You may have just _killed_ me," L informed him coldly, voice deadly and emotionless despite his terrible anger. "We have no idea who this _fourth_ Kira is, or what his intentions are. What exactly am I supposed to do if he trades for the shinigami eyes and catches a glimpse of me? Or _you?"_ He stalked closer, Light mirroring him step for step in an attempt to get away.

"I mean…" Light said nervously, "they're not really a fourth Kira until they kill someone, and I know you haven't noticed any irregularity in the patterns of the killings, so…"

It had been the wrong thing to say. L took one final step forwards, and his patience snapped. He acted without thinking, the next few moments fading away in a blur of motion. He felt the swish of air rushing past him, felt his fingers close around some kind of fabric, felt himself slamming something against a wall—and then he heard a sharp gasp and a pained hiss accompanying a loud thud.

"L!" Light choked out as the detective's vision faded back to normal. "Let me—!"

L blinked, surprised, as he stared at the scene before him. He didn't remember moving, didn't remember acting on his anger—but yet there he was, fingers curled in Light's collar, forcefully pressing the teen against the wall. The anger was still there, he realized, twisting and festering in the pit of his stomach—but as he looked upon Light's startled face, realizing that _he_ was the one that had put that fear there, he found it slowly beginning to dissipate. _That…was foolish. This isn't entirely his fault, I know that it isn't…so what possessed me to act in such a way? I have never felt such rage over something such as this, and I've certainly never acted upon such rage. I've scared the only person I want to befriend._ He realized that Light had been moving his mouth, speaking to him the entire time he'd been lost in thought.

"…me go! Come on, I'm sorry!"

L slowly forced his fingers to uncurl from Light's collar, and the teen crashed to the ground clumsily. The detective realized with surprise that he'd been holding him about an inch off the ground. But what was more startling to him was the streak of red across the wall, directly where the back of Light's head had rested against it moments prior. _What…?_ L slowly turned his gaze downwards, where Light was still sitting against the wall. He had one hand pressed to the back of his head, and when he drew it back, it came away red. _How did that happen?_

"Damn, L," Light groaned. "I know you're upset, but geez…"

"Did…did _I_ do that?" L asked, stunned. He couldn't remember. Everything felt blurry.

"What the hell do you mean 'did I do that'? Of course you did, you dolt!"

"I…" L trailed off, shaking his head from side to side. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yes, well…" Light took L's offered hand, letting the detective pull him to his feet. "You've managed to do just that, so I'd appreciate an apology."

"Well…" L struggled to collect his thoughts. "To be fair, you _did_ get the Death Note taken away, so me apologizing doesn't really seem—"

Light glared.

"…Sorry."

The teen gave him a small smile, though it seemed more troubled than forgiving. "Look…can we just forget all the anger, and yelling, and… _violence_ and try to come up with a logical plan of action?"

"Yes, yes, of course. But you've started bleeding; we should at least get you cleaned up first."

"What about the wall?" Light asked, motioning to the small streak of red. "The task force won't be pleased if they see it."

L shrugged. "I'll have Watari clean it up in the morning before they arrive. Don't worry, Light, they'll never know." He stepped away from Light and motioned to the hallway before them. "Let's go up to our room, okay? I'll take care of that cut."

The teen gave him a worried glance, answering, "Whatever you say."

L was swift to usher the teen towards the hallway, taking up his position behind him. If asked, he would have said it was so he could make sure Light didn't try to run or pull anything funny. But in reality, it was for another reason entirely. It was because he didn't want Light to see his face. He didn't want the teen to see the expression of apprehension and confusion currently etched across his features. _What was that? It was unlike me to react so violently, and especially unlike me to strike Light so harshly. I've made him bleed. And the way he was looking at me…he was scared. But that's not what scares me. What scares me is the fact that I don't remember hitting him. Everything was a blur, I acted without thinking…I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. It wasn't like me. Why did I do it? I was upset, yes, but I've never lost control like that before. Something is wrong here._ L dug his nails into his palms. Then he brought them up to his eyes, twisting and turning them as if questioning their existence. _My hands. My hands did that._

A call from Light, who had already reached the end of the hall, broke L from his thoughts. But even as he smiled at the teen, assured him that everything was okay, and joined him at the end of the corridor, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

And whatever that something was…

†††

After that, the night fell into deadly silence. There were still two or three hours left before the task force would report to work, and both geniuses spent that time together—though the atmosphere between them had changed in a twisted, confusing way.

The first stop was the bathroom attached to their room. Light found himself being directed to sit on the closed lid of the toilet as L reached up to the cabinet above the sink, opening it and rooting around in the various medicines and first aid materials. The clinking of tiny glass vials and plastic containers was the only thing that seemed able cut through the silence.

Light, for his part, couldn't stop thinking about the events of that night. _I don't understand,_ he thought repeatedly. _I hid the notebook so well, and I was so certain that no one was following or watching me. Who could possibly have found it? It couldn't have been Ryuk, because he's not allowed to take the notebook from me. But if someone else does have the notebook, then why hasn't he just killed me and transferred official ownership to this other person? I know he claimed to want me and only me to help him, but he doesn't exactly seem like one to tolerate inconveniences—and me not having immediate possession of the notebook is the upmost inconvenience. I can hardly believe that he hasn't just offed me by now. And not just that, but I also have to worry about the matter of_ who _exactly has my notebook. Is he someone who agrees with me? Will he want to find me to work as friends, or to kill me? And on top of that, what just happened to L? I've never seen him lose control like that. He's never struck me, or done anything more than glare. He even assured me that he didn't want to hurt me. But just now…what happened? It was almost as if he were possessed, as if something else had control of his actions. As…as if he didn't know what he was doing. And afterwards, he didn't even seem to remember hitting me. He was surprised when he saw the blood, and he even asked me what happened. Whatever's going on, I'll have to keep a close eye on him to make sure there's not a repeat incident. I don't want him to hurt me again, even if it's an accident._

Light was drawn back to present time as L approached, a swab of cotton in one hand and a bottle of antiseptic in the other. The detective placed a hand on his shoulder, and without saying a word, Light turned around so L could see the gash on the back of his head. He knew that it wasn't bad, seeing as blood had long since stopped dripping down the back of his neck, but it still stung when L began to disinfect it. He had many things to say to the detective— _I can do that myself,_ for one—but it seemed wrong to break the silence between them. He was sure that L was lost in thought, trying to figure out what he should do next, how he should counter this latest event. L drew back to dispose of the red-tinged swab of cotton, handing Light a damp cloth which with to dab away the last of the blood. Then he slipped from the room, returning a few minutes later with a small ice pack, which he then offered to Light.

The message was clear— _it shouldn't swell, but just in case, I want you to take this._ Light gave a grateful nod and took the ice pack, reaching behind his head and pressing it gently against the area surrounding the gash. The inflamed cut immediately felt a hundred times better, the coolness of the ice easing the dull ache.

L turned away and left the bathroom. Light watched him leave, vaguely recognizing that L was at least making an effort to trust him by leaving him alone, even if it was only for a few minutes. The teen waited, eyes trained on the door, for the detective to come back and lead him back into the main bedroom, where he would keep an eye on him as he had been doing for many weeks. But as minutes ticked by, L didn't return—and Light slowly figured out that he was being left alone for as long as he wanted. He felt a sudden and intense wave of disbelief paired with shock—after so many weeks of watching, of insisting that he never be left alone, L was just…letting him stay by himself? Granted, it was only a room over, but still…

Light continued to sit there, alone, for minutes more. But though he expected to feel elation at being given a bit of freedom, the more time passed, the more he felt a terrible and deep sense of discomfort. He began to fidget. He began to cast tiny glances as the door. He began to recognize the growing pit in his stomach. _What is this,_ he thought, _some kind of dependency? Have I degraded so far in such a short time? Being attracted to someone does not mean that you should want to spend every waking moment with them, and that you should feel uncomfortable when they are not near. This isn't good—I need to break this dependency immediately._ Light continued to fidget. And despite his best efforts, it was only a moment more before he could no longer resist the urge to rise and leave the room.

"L?" he asked as he left the bathroom, breaking the silence for the first time since the detective had slammed him into the wall.

The detective was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He didn't respond, though it was clear that he'd heard him.

Light made his way over to the bed. Then, slowly, he crawled up onto it and moved to sit beside L. "So…" he began hesitantly. "What now?"

There was a heavy moment of silence as L dropped his gaze from the wall to his lap, appearing deep in thought. Then, slowly, he turned to face Light. The corners of his lips quirked upwards. "This is a disaster."

"Then why are you smiling?"

L shook his head. "I suppose I'm amused by the prospect of a challenge."

"Right," Light huffed, "because we're all amused by challenges that could lead to our deaths."

The detective hummed in agreement, still seeming distant. "Putting that aside, we need to decide what to do next. Now that someone else has their hands on a Death Note, the entire game has changed. There is much to do, you understand—we must find the stray notebook, find Misa's Death Note, sort out the issue of you working in the investigation room, and work out what to do about teaching you how to use the notebook correctly."

Light ground his teeth at the repeated mention of 'teaching' him how to use his notebook 'correctly.' "So what should we do first?"

"Well, I was _going_ to start out by teaching you to use the notebook, but since you appear to have gotten it stolen, we'll just have to start with something else. I'd say that for now, our first priority is eliminating Misa and her shinigami. We need to find her notebook and have her permanently imprisoned. After that, we can begin working on tracking down whoever has the stray notebook. Once we get it back, then all we'll have to do is manipulate the NPA into forcefully closing the Kira case. The task force will be disbanded and we will promise to continue searching for Kira until he is caught. But of course, that will never happen. With the task force disbanded and the investigation placed into our hands, we will never be caught—and with time, we will eliminate all injustice from this world."

"Our?" Light echoed. "You intend to take me with you?"

"Naturally. You have agreed to work with me, Light. Did you believe that it would only be for the duration of the investigation?"

"Well…no, I suppose. I just hadn't considered it." Although he would never admit it, he found himself greatly excited by the thought of accompanying L after the case ended. "So, our first priority is finding Misa's Death Note? How are we going to do that?"

"Well…" L trailed off, looking sheepish. "I'm going to do the same thing to Misa that I did to you."

And despite the vagueness of L's statement, Light immediately knew what he was referring to. "You mean you're going to force her to watch one of her friends be killed," he deadpanned, brow furrowing.

"Not exactly, no." The detective was suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "Light…I'm afraid that I may have lied to you about what happened to Takada."

"Lied?" _Is she alive? Has he been keeping it a secret from me this whole time?_

"Yes, I'm afraid. You see, I wanted to 'kill' one of your friends to make you confess your identity as Kira, but I knew that not even I could justify murdering an innocent teenager. So I needed a way to make it look like I killed her without actually having done so."

Light caught on immediately, realizing, "You didn't kill her with that gas, you knocked her out! You locked me in the detention chamber because if I was in my usual cell when you 'killed' Takada, I would have been knocked out as well."

L nodded. "Yes, that's correct. I built the lower level of this building with airtight seals, so that any gas pumped into the chambers wouldn't spread to the rest of the building so long as those seals were activated. But that meant that I had to get you out of your cell before I did anything, or you'd figure out what was happening. So after I locked you in the detention cell, all I had to do was set up a live feed and pump in the gas. Even Takada didn't know what was going to happen. She believed that she was going to die."

"I see…and where is she now?"

"Back at school, presumably. I threatened her into staying quiet about what happened, so we shouldn't have any problems with her."

"Of course you did," Light sighed, running a hand through his hair wearily. "I should have guessed. So, if we're going to do this to Misa, then who are we going to use? All of her friends are in America, right? We'll have to fly someone in."

L shook his head. "Actually, Light, I believe there's only one person Misa cares about enough to sacrifice her identity for."

The teen froze in place. _Oh no, please don't tell me he's talking about—_

"I don't know if you've figured this out based on what I've told you, Light, but Misa Amane is obsessed with Kira."

_…Of course it's me. Of course._ "Then use someone else and say that they're Kira. It's not that difficult, L, so you have no reason to use me."

"On the contrary, Light—I have _every_ reason to use you. After all, you are the only one who knows how Kira would conceivably act in every situation. You're the only one who can pull off the role of Kira. And besides, while I've learned that Misa does not have the eyes, I know that her shinigami will be in the room. That shinigami will be able to see that you have no lifespan, and will inform Misa of your true identity as Kira. It will be perfect."

L had adopted a devious smirk that refused to go away, and Light found himself helpless to it. A shiver ran up his spine as L gazed at him, and he knew that he would do whatever the detective asked of him. "…Okay. Fine, I'll do it. But you have to tell me what to expect so I'm not caught off guard."

"You're _supposed_ to be caught of guard," L protested. "If you're not, then it won't look realistic. Misa has to believe that you're Kira, yes, but she also has to believe that you're really being killed."

He was stuck, then—he'd have to be 'killed' in order to learn the location of Misa's notebook. "When do we start?"

The look L shot him was nothing short of evil. "We will carry the plan out tomorrow during the day. I will tell the task force that I want to interrogate Misa alone, and when that happens, we will have just enough time to get the location of the notebook."

Tomorrow…so soon. "Will it hurt?" Light asked childishly, blurting it out before he had a chance to think.

The reluctant expression on L's face was enough to give him his answer. "Unfortunately, yes. It will be quite painful; there is no way around it. After all, it's meant to be realistic."

"I…I see." Light struggled to ignore the pang of fear in his chest. "Then I suppose all there is to do is wait."

†††

Far away, it was raining.

There wasn't anything particularly spectacular about it, or anything even remotely noteworthy. It wasn't even raining especially hard, and the drops weren't particularly cold. It was simply raining, slowly dousing a very special school in a very average shower of drops. And the very special children at that very special school, instead of running around in the open yard surrounding the building, were all cooped up inside, several of them pressing their hands and noses against the windows in hopes that the rain would stop so that they could go outside and play. But as they looked out over the gray landscape, it was not the ceasing of rain that they saw, but something else entirely—and that something just so happened to be a person.

A man, probably in his early twenties, walked up the pathway leading to the school. The rain had flattened his normally unruly black hair into a thick, tangled mess that clung to the sides of his face, and spotted his white long-sleeved shirt with tiny flecks that turned it partially transparent. Even his jeans, barely clinging to his bony hips, hadn't escaped the spattering of droplets. Although the man didn't know it, inside the school, all the children at the windows were pointing at him excitedly, whispering things that he could not hear.

_"He's back!"_ one of them might have said.

_"He's so weird…why does he hunch his shoulders like that?"_ another may have inquired.

_"I wonder what he was doing this time…he was away for so long!"_ a third could have been whispering.

_"Well I don't want him back here…his eyes creep me out. Who wants to wear red contacts all the time?"_ the last may have murmured.

It was all common suit for the man. He was used to the whispers, even if he could not yet hear them. He was used to people pointing at his eyes and cringing, used to the children at the school trying to avoid him. He didn't care anymore. Maybe he had, once, long ago…perhaps back when he'd known A, and when speaking with L had been no more special than tying his shoes or combing his hair. But that had all changed after L left and A died—two events that had nearly driven him to madness. Hell, maybe they _had_ driven him to madness, and he didn't even know it. Why else would he be getting himself involved in the Kira case? Why else would he be doing what he was doing? He found himself increasingly unable to answer that question, and although it probably should have unnerved him, he found himself largely apathetic. Oh, well—it was best to let it go.

He'd reached the front entrance of the school, and he wrenched the doors open harshly. His clothing was dripping, his hair was flinging tiny droplets all over the tile that made up the floor of the entrance hall, but he didn't care. Nor did he care about the whispers, which now he _could_ hear, or the eyes that he felt focused on his face. Without sparing the children so much as a glance, he began to walk down the hall towards the dorms. He could vaguely hear them chatting, sense them running up and down the halls without a care in the world or idly chatting about their next classes, which wouldn't start until the following day seeing as it was an off day for the school. It was a very lively place, really—but he wasn't interested in that. All he was interested in was the person waiting for him in the dorms, and the thing tucked beneath his shirt. He'd risked a lot getting it, and it hadn't been easy. But he'd succeeded, as he always did, and now it was time for the little brat who'd asked him to get it to pay up. He groaned internally at the thought of the twerp—he didn't care if he was technically the smartest person in the school, he was an annoying little twat who didn't deserve a scrap of the attention he got.

He found his way to the dorms in record time, the children parting to let him through without a word. They were scared of him, after all, and all that he had done. _And they don't know the half of it._ As he reached for the doorknob, he could distinctly hear a very familiar voice coming from within. It was harsh, abrasive, unrelenting—and it was followed by a softer voice, almost crystalline, impossibly delicate. They seemed to be arguing. _Hmph, like that's a surprise. Those two have never gotten along._ He didn't bother knocking, barging into the room rudely.

"…would just stop acting like such a know it all, then maybe I wouldn't find reason to yell!"

"I find your tone offensive. I implore you, cease this display of impertinence at once."

"Yeah? Well I find your tone _arrogant_ and _petulant,_ you little brat!"

"If you are only here to insult me, then I would request that you leave."

"I told you, I'm not leaving until you explain just what the hell you're playing at, sending _him_ to do your dirty work! You know full well that he's bad news!"

"What happens between us is my business alone. Need I remind you that I owe you nothing in terms of explanation? I am the first ranked student at this school, and am therefore unrequired to disclose any information to my subordinate."

"Subordinate? Are you kidding me?"

"I am not one for jokes, as you well know. Now please leave me in peace."

"Fuck you, brat!"

"I find myself equally displeased at being in your presence."

There was a loud slam as the source of the second voice swept his arm across the desk in front of him, knocking all the books to the ground. "Up yours, snowflake!" he spat, whirling around and heading for the exit. But when he saw the person standing in the doorway, he recoiled, nose curling. "What are you doing here, freak?"

The so-called freak shook his head, amused. This just so happened to be the second ranked person in the school, and was probably the most emotional person he knew. He even _dressed_ emotionally—his leather vest, leather pants, leather boots, and leather _everything_ spoke volumes about his fiery attitude. And that hair, strikingly blonde, cut to shoulder length, didn't help his image in the least, nor did the piercing blue eyes. He looked, sounded, _was,_ aggressive.

"What, don't think you have to answer me?" the blonde snarled. He jerked his head to one side, barking, "Come on, we're leaving." And in response, the third person in the room, previously unnoticed, gave a brief nod—though he didn't raise his head from his handheld gaming system—and followed the blonde out of the room. This person was the third ranked in the school, and was completely obsessed with video games. He'd never heard him speak a word in his life.

The man stepped aside as the blonde and the shorter brunette pushed their way past him and left. "Well," he said once the door swung closed rather violently. "That went well, no?"

The last person in the room—the one he was interested in—dropped his head into his hands with a low groan. "Don't get me started."

He smirked, shrugging innocently. "As you wish, oh great one. You know best, after all."

"Don't mock me."

"I wasn't mocking."

The other person—a boy no older than sixteen—raised his head just enough to shoot him a scathing glare. Ah, _there_ were those hateful gray eyes he enjoyed so much. They went so well with his white hair and white pajamas—the reason for the blonde having nicknamed him _snowflake._ The white-haired boy had come up with many names for the blonde as well, of course, but none of them were words the man cared to repeat in front of the children.

"Why are you here, Beyond?" the white-haired teen asked softly.

"Well, do you remember that little business venture we discussed several weeks past?"

The teen narrowed his eyes cautiously. "What of it?"

"Well…" The man—Beyond—felt the object concealed beneath his shirt press into his skin as he moved, taking a few steps closer to his companion. "I may or may not have found something big."

And just like that, all anger was gone from the teen's gaze. Instead it was replaced with awe as he realized just what Beyond's words meant. "You found something? Something pertaining to the Kira Case?"

"Yes, yes, of course…I know that you're eager to take it on, even though L has expressly forbid it. And after you asked me to perform a little surveillance, I discovered something big—although it took a few weeks more than I would have liked."

"What is it? Show it to me!"

Beyond clicked his tongue condescendingly. "So emotional. And I thought _you_ were supposed to be the rational one."

"I _am_ rational! I simply do not like being antagonized!"

"Fine, fine…" Beyond fought a smirk, reaching a hand beneath his shirt and folding his fingers around the object concealed there. "I suppose I always _have_ been the only person able to get under your skin enough to make you yell." Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw the object at the teen.

He caught it before it struck him in the chest, seeming slightly confused when he looked down and saw that it was only a notebook. "A notebook?" he asked slowly. "What does this have to do with the Kira Case?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," Beyond said innocently. "But there's some rather interesting information written inside, if you care to take a look."

The teen shot him a questioning look, but it only took a few moments for him to look down and begin to read. For a long moment, there was silence. But then the teen's head snapped up, eyes wide, as he questioned, "Is this real?"

"I don't know, snowflake," he mocked in return. "Why don't you test it out?"

"Test it out? I can't possibly—"

Beyond scoffed, "Don't kid yourself. You know full well that the instant my back is turned, you'll whip out a pen and give it a try. You're too curious, and you have no reservations about taking human life so long as it serves a purpose."

"You are entirely incorrect!"

"Yeah, yeah…" He chuckled. "But that's beside the point. I did what you asked. Now it's time for you to do what _I_ want."

Another suspicious glare was shot his way. "I suppose a deal is a deal. I will include you in my investigation and tell you everything I uncover. We will work together, as it were."

"And?"

The teen's nose curled as if he'd just smelled something repulsive as his jaw visibly clenched. "And…I will not protest if you insist upon bringing _him_ into this investigation with us."

"Good boy," Beyond praised, purposefully antagonizing the younger male. "I know you don't like him much, but anyone with half a brain can see that you're two halves of a whole—and if you could just work together, you could surpass even L."

"That's _if_ we can work together. And believe me, Beyond, I've tried. No matter what I say and do, Mello hates me with a vengeance. I've always been better than him, and he resents me for it."

"Well maybe if you'd stop acting like an arrogant asshole, he wouldn't hate you so much," Beyond grumbled under his breath. "Listen, kid—I know you don't like him, but working with Mello is your best shot at catching Kira before L does. God knows why you're so intent on doing such a thing, but if you really want to succeed, then this is the only way."

"You know why I want to catch him first," the teen shot back. "If I can prove that I'm just as capable of L—no, _more_ capable than L—then Roger won't be as unwilling to let me work on real cases. This is a chance to prove myself. A chance to get out of this orphanage and into the real world as a private detective—and Mello knows it too. That's why he's going to help us, no matter how much he hates me."

"And I'm assuming we'll have Matt along for the ride as well?"

"I'm sure Mello wouldn't have it any other way."

"Fine, then. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Beyond made to turn around, purposefully hesitating in preparation for the white-haired teen's protest.

"Wait a minute, I thought you wanted to be a part of this investigation! Is there a reason you're running off now?"

"I do want to be a part of the investigation, I just…" Beyond trailed off, unsure of how to convey his reasoning to the young man without simply confusing him further. "Look, kid," he said slowly, "you haven't known L for as long as I have. I grew up with the guy, and let me tell you, there's something going on in that head of his that makes him a complete wild card. And if you want even a chance of catching Kira before he does and 'proving yourself' capable of leaving this place, you'll need to know exactly what he's doing and what leads he's working on. Unfortunately, since he's a complete wild card and entirely unpredictable, that means you'll have to have a way of monitoring him."

The teen's expression shifted from irritated to thoughtful in less than a second. "If you go back to Japan and act as my surveillance…"

"Exactly. I'll head back over there and keep an eye on L, just to make sure he doesn't do anything rash that would put _our_ investigation in danger. And while I'm there, I might even be able to gather a bit more evidence, especially concerning that lovely little Kira suspect he's taken under his wing."

"Kira suspect?" the ten echoed, sounding surprised. "You didn't mention that there was already a suspect. How close is L to catching him?"

Beyond hummed noncommittally, raising his hands in a gesture of uncertainty—though of course, he'd done extensive research into L's movements and knew exactly how close the detective was to victory. "Close enough for concern, I assure you." He turned fully away from the door and walked slowly, deliberately, back towards his companion, relishing the look of discomfort on his face. This was what made him so dangerous—his uncanny ability to keep his victims off balance and vulnerable, never able to maintain a steady footing. Or at least, so he'd been told. "You'd better hurry, snowflake. I know you think you're unbeatable, but you've never met L. You don't know what he's capable of, what he'll do to win."

"He's not a villain," he protested. "Surely he won't resort to anything too drastic, especially not if it involves treachery."

"Treachery?" Beyond echoed scornfully. "Trust me, kid, if L gets backed into a corner, treachery will be the least of your worries. No…I was thinking more along the lines of murder _."_

"Murder? Surely you're joking—L doesn't kill without a reason."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He may think himself to be high and mighty, but he has a nasty tendency to justify even his most twisted actions as for the 'greater good.'" Beyond turned his back swiftly, knowing just how hateful his expression had turned with his final words, and fully intending to keep his young companion from figuring out just how bitterly furious he was.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you asked him, he wouldn't think that he'd done anything wrong. But before you call him a hero, remember that his point of view isn't the only one out there."

The white-haired teen shook his head in disbelief, his calm, collected mask cracking slightly. "No, I don't believe you. Nice try, Beyond, but everyone knows that _you're_ the monster, not L. Have you forgotten what happened in L.A.? You shouldn't even be here, and you _wouldn't_ be here if we hadn't taken pity on you and removed you from prison. You're just trying to get into my head, like always."

"Is that so?" Beyond turned back towards the door, knowing that to spend even a minute longer in this _child's_ presence would snap his patience. He had not the strength to keep up such an infuriating conversation with someone who didn't know what he was talking about. He hadn't been there, after all. He hadn't been there when L—

"Honestly, I don't see why you're doing this in the first place," that annoying voice muttered. "Everyone knows you have it out for L, but you've never involved yourself with other students before, especially not in a plot as big as this one."

Swallowing his anger, which was pressing sharply at the backs of his teeth, Beyond forced himself to respond in an even tone—though to his dismay, it shook slightly. "You want to know why I'm doing this? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm afraid I'm not up to disclosing something of that caliber to a child." And then, seeing the teen opening his mouth indignantly, he went on to say, "Let's just say that when I get to L, I'm going to make him swallow all of those ridiculous justifications. I'll make him understand that what happened all those years ago wasn't for the greater good. I'll make him understand that he _murdered—"_ He snapped his teeth down on his tongue, cutting off his next words sharply. "Forget it," he growled, stalking towards the door. "Just do your job, snowflake, and give me a call when you've decided just what you're going to do next."

"Don't call me that!" the teen called after him irritably.

And Beyond, true to character, shot him a vicious smirk in return, quipping, "As you wish, your highness."

"Beyond—!"

"Fine, fine. I'll see you around, Near."

With that, Beyond left the teen alone, retreating towards the world outside the school. _I'll make him pay,_ he vowed silently, weaving through the children roaming the halls. _I don't care what you say, L, what you did wasn't righteous. It wasn't for the greater good. What happened…it was murder, and you have to pay. Watari may have been willing to turn a blind eye to it because of all the people you've helped, but I cannot._ His fingers drifted to his belt, running across the hilt of his knife. _I won't kill you in return, my old friend—you don't deserve to escape so easily from your crimes—but I fully intend to make you understand what you did to me. You took something of mine, my dear L. And so it's only right that I take something of yours, isn't it? I started with your Death Note—or rather, your little suspect's Death Note. But by the end, I'll make sure you're left with nothing. I'll make you regret it. I'll make you regret killing_ him _. Even if I have to team up with your repugnant little successors to make it happen._

Beyond turned his face towards the heavens, a dark smile gracing his features. "Well…" he murmured aloud. "Looks like it's time to get started, eh, L?"


	23. The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite schemes in this whole story is coming up in a few chapters. But until then, I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Thanks for all the amazing support!

For Light, the next day passed in a haze of anticipation. He knew that L's plan would be carried out soon, knew that he would soon be forced to 'die' on camera, but he had no idea when it would happen. And since L had refused to let him join the investigation until Misa was dealt with, he was stuck staring at a wall for at least the rest of that day, stomach twisting nervously.

_Well, I suppose it could be worse,_ Light thought, dragging his bare toes across the stone floor of his cell. _At least this has given me a bit of time to think._

There was a long pause. Then Light groaned, throwing himself back onto the cot, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly. "Forget it…" he groaned aloud. "I can't think, not knowing what's about to happen." He rolled onto his side. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He sat up against the wall. He laid back down. He couldn't get comfortable.

And then, after what felt like forever, he heard a cell phone go off. He immediately launched himself off the bed, snatching up the cell phone from the floor beside the cot. L had left it there the previous night, telling him that he'd call just before he started filling the chamber with gas, just to give him a bit of forewarning. Light raised the phone to his ear, inquiring, "Yes?"

_"Light,"_ a familiar voice replied. _"Are you okay? You've been fidgeting all day."_

"You've been watching."

_"Of course. Now answer the question—are you well, or do you wish to delay this operation? I must admit that we do not have much time, so we must carry out our plan soon, but it is entirely possible to delay the plan for a day or two if you are unprepared."_

"No, no," Light said, shaking his head. "If I have to wait here for another day, I'll go insane. Let's just get it over with, okay?"

There was a moment of hesitation. Then, _"Very well. If you wish to continue with this plan, then we will do so."_

"Is it time, then?"

_"Yes. As I told you yesterday, you will need to be prepared to experience pain. You should only be conscious for a few minutes, and after that I'll move you to the infirmary as I did with Takada. There shouldn't be any complications, but just in case something happens, it will be better for you to be somewhere with advanced medical technology when you awaken."_

"Okay, got it. Do you think I should play it up to make it look more realistic? After all, if Misa doesn't think I'm actually in pain, then she's not exactly going to give up the location of the notebook to save me."

_"No, no…I'm afraid there will be no need for that. I am confident that it will appear realistic."_

So in other words, it was going to hurt—a lot.

" _You're quiet,"_ L noticed. _"That means you're nervous. Listen, Light, if you don't want to do this now—"_

For a moment, Light was almost tempted to put it off. But then he shook his head, knowing that to do such a thing would be a huge mistake. It had been bad enough sitting there for a single day; he couldn't imagine sitting through another. "No. Just get it over with."

_"As you wish. I will begin in a few minutes."_

There was a soft click on the other end of the line as L hung up, leaving Light in silence. _Great…_ he thought. _More waiting._

But fortunately—unfortunately?—he didn't have long to wait. What could only have been five minutes later, he heard something shifting in the walls. _The airtight seals,_ he remembered. _They're locking into place._ A heartbeat later, the mechanical whirr in the walls came to a stop—and for a heartbeat after that, there was a deathly moment of silence. Light felt his breath stall in his chest as he waited for the inevitable next step. And sure enough, a moment later, a low hissing sound spread through the cell. The gas was no doubt beginning to spread.

Light was almost tempted to hold his breath to keep himself from inhaling the toxin, but he knew it would be both foolish and worthless. He just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. And so although it went against every fiber of his being, he forced himself to take deep breaths in hopes of speeding the process.

His first lungful of air brought no immediate results. He couldn't smell anything weird, couldn't see anything resembling gas entering the room. Likewise, his second and third breaths didn't send him falling to the ground in a fit of agony.

Unfortunately, his fourth breath did.

The instant Light drew that dreaded fourth breath, he felt every muscle in his body contract. His lungs tightened a heartbeat later, and breath became next to impossible to draw—but he could still breathe, even if it was difficult, and every breath sent more of the poison coursing through his veins. _Oh dear,_ he thought to himself, unable to stop himself from folding in on himself slightly. _This…doesn't seem like it's going to end well._ But still, something didn't seem right—it was supposed to hurt, wasn't it? It wasn't pleasant, not by any stretch of the imagination—but it was nowhere near the level of pain L had promised him. _That's strange…he said I didn't have to act, but if it doesn't start looking realistic soon, then I don't think—_

And then, just like that, everything stopped working _._ It was so swift, so sudden, so entirely unexpected, that Light didn't even have a chance to gasp before he found himself laying on the ground, unable to move a muscle. It didn't hurt yet, though—he was simply unable to move. _This may have been a bad idea,_ he thought.

_That_ was when the pain hit. Incidentally, it was also the exact moment in which Light realized that yes, this was an _incredibly_ bad idea.

_God damn it, L,_ he thought, holding back a groan. _You'd better know what you're doing. I'll never forgive you if this is for nothing._

†††

L expected getting the location of the notebook out of Misa to be very easy. He expected to walk in, prove that Light was Kira, force her to watch the footage of Light 'dying,' and obtain the location of the notebook with little effort. All he'd have to do was say a few things, do a bit of convincing, and go get the notebook when all was said and done. And of course, he'd have to take a bit of time out of his schedule to make sure Light was okay. He expected nothing to go wrong, but there was still an uncomfortable pit of nervousness in his stomach that refused to dissipate. _It'll all be okay,_ he reassured himself. _I just called him, and he assured me that he wanted to go through with it. Just take a deep breath, put on your mask, and get this over with._

L let out a soft breath, forcing the muscles in his face to relax back into a neutral expression. He made sure his mask was in place, knowing that the shinigami was most likely watching over Misa inside the interrogation room. Then he reached forward and pulled open the door to Misa's room.

Just as he'd thought, she was sitting in the provided chair with slumped shoulders, arms and legs strapped tight to prevent movement. Her head was so drastically stooped that her chin was brushing her chest, and even from the doorway L could see that her eyes were closed. But when she heard the door open, her reaction was immediate—her head snapped up, eyes opening without hesitation and fixing him with a pointed glare. " _You,"_ she spat. "I insist that you let me go!"

_Here we go again._ "I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Amane."

She huffed. "Then get out! I'm _tired,_ you know. I just want to rest."

"Yes," L murmured dryly, "it must be quite difficult to sit and think about what you've done." He closed the door behind him, walking over to the table in front of Misa and setting his laptop down calmly. He'd already pulled up the live feed of Light's cell, so when he opened the lid it was already on display. The program that would set in place the airtight seals was already pulled up in the lower left-hand color. All it would take was one, tiny command, and their plan would be carried out. But first, one thing remained—he had to prove to Misa that Light was Kira

"Just leave me alone," Misa begged softly. "Please…"

"Tell me, Amane, do you remember when I told you that I had Kira in my possession?"

Her eyes flickered with something akin to hope. "Yes…you told me that you had him here, close to me."

"Excellent." L adjusted the computer so that the screen was directly before Misa, the screen displaying Light's cell. "That should make things easier. For you see, Miss Amane, the person sitting in that cell is Kira."

The model's eyes snapped to the screen, eyes widening. "H-him? But why…?"

"You don't need to understand why just yet. For now, let's focus on the immediate issue. That person is Kira, and I need you to believe that he is Kira." He didn't think it would be difficult to convince her—judging by the way she was staring at Light, he suspected that she already believed him.

"I don't—"

L didn't allow her to finish. "Misa Amane, I know that your shinigami is with you."

"R-Rem?" the girl questioned breathlessly. "How do you…?"

"Yes," he said, "Rem. As I said, I need you to understand that Kira is the person before you. And so Rem, wherever you are, if you would be so kind as to confirm that boy's lack of a lifespan, I would be ever so grateful."

There was a moment of silence, the brief shuffling of wings. Then, a moment later, Misa's expression twisted into one of conflicted acceptance. "You were telling the truth," she whispered. "And you've captured Kira so easily…"

"Unfortunately for you, I have." L placed the palms of his hands firmly on the table, leaning across it in what he hoped to be a threatening manner. If Misa's reaction was anything to go off of, it worked. "I regret to inform you that Kira has been in my power for the past several weeks. He hasn't made a single move that I haven't seen, hasn't written so much as a letter in the Death Note. He is _mine."_

"He's not yours!"

Ah, that _expression._ Misa was furious, furious that Light was in the hands of another. It was sickening—she didn't even know him, and yet she laid claim to him. "He is," L corrected in a soft, emotionless tone. "Now, let me tell you how this is going to work." And then he told her everything—everything about the 'deadly' gas, the airtight seals, and everything about Kira's imminent death. And lastly, and most importantly, he told her just what was going to happen if she didn't give him the location of the notebook.

Afterwards, all she could do was stare.

"So?" L asked, knowing full well that he'd already won. "What do you have to say to that, Miss Amane? Still convinced you'll win?" He didn't even need to hear her response—he was completely confident the model would do exactly what he wanted. If she didn't, then Kira would die. _Checkmate, Amane._

"No, you can't—!"

"Now, now, Amane. Don't turn into a broken record." L deliberately slowed his movements, making himself appear almost lazy in his confidence. It was surprisingly hard to pull off, seeing as the knot of nervousness in his stomach was only growing with each passing moment. He spared Light a glance, and winced when he saw just how nervous the poor teen looked. He was perched on the edge of his bed, shaking like a leaf. _Well, we can't back down now. And I certainly can't hesitate, not unless I want Misa to get suspicious._ L reached forward, leaving no outward display of his reluctance to act, and executed the first command—the one that would activate the airtight seals. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Light flinch, recoiling as he no doubt heard the sound reverberating through the cell. "You _will_ tell me the location of your notebook, and you will tell me now. If you do not, Kira will die."

Misa's head whipped around to face the screen, the alarm in her eyes growing exponentially in a matter of seconds. L could see it all—the panic, the disbelief, the horror—she was so terribly inept at hiding it.

L hovered his fingers over the keyboard, shooting his captive a threatening glare. "If you don't speak in the next five seconds, I will flood the chamber with the toxin."

But of course, she was too stubborn to crack just yet. She had to see if L was lying, had to wait until Kira was writhing in agony before she moved to stop it. She was still suspended in disbelief. And as was such, she remained speechless.

"No? Fine, then—don't say I didn't warn you." L executed the command, forcing his gaze to remain locked on Misa when he wanted nothing more than to glance over at Light to make sure he was okay. The toxin shouldn't be affecting him just yet, he knew, but he was still nervous. And sure enough, the teen was seated at the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the sheets in a death grip. Perfectly unharmed. Unfortunately, L knew that wouldn't be the case for long.

It only took a moment before the gas set in. It happened fast. One minute Light was sitting at the edge of the bed, and the next he was curled on his side on the ground, sides visibly heaving even through the camera as he struggled to catch his breath. L forced his hands, which had instinctively clenched into fists upon seeing Light's collapse, to relax. He refused to give Misa any sort of hint that Light's pain was just as distressing to him as it was to her.

"The clock is ticking," L informed her, keeping his tone deceptively even. "Losing him means nothing to me, but I will be glad to trade his life for the location of your notebook."

Misa's eyes remained glued to the screen. "I can't tell you," she insisted. "That notebook has to be kept safe at all costs, don't you see?"

"Like I said," he continued, leaning against the desk in the most nonchalant way he could manage given the circumstances, "the clock is ticking. And taking even the slightest chance of getting Kira killed is quite foolish, don't you agree?"

She bit her lip nervously. On the screen, Light had wrapped his arms around himself, knees drawing up tightly to his chest. His breath would be coming shorter now, his chest tightening as he found himself less and less able to draw breath. It would be quite painful.

L ground his teeth. Misa was taking too long to decide; Light might be seriously affected by the gas if she didn't speak up soon. It wasn't lethal, but it had the potential to damage him if he inhaled too much. "In a few minutes, it will be too late to save him, even if I stop the flow of toxin to the cell. Make your decision swiftly."

For an excruciating number of seconds, Misa did nothing but chew on her bottom lip and stare at the screen, as if she expected the reality of her situation to change at any moment. But as the seconds ticked down (and at this point, L was seriously considering calling the whole thing off purely out of the fear that Light would be harmed) she seemed to realize that nothing was changing—and that her time was running out.

Light went completely limp, and L could take it no longer. "Misa—"

" _Fine!"_ she screeched at the same time, drowning L out. "Fine, I'll tell you, just stop this!"

L's fingers twitched as he barely refrained from reaching for the button that would stop the gas from progressing further. But he couldn't stop it yet, couldn't stop until he had the location. "The location first," he insisted, though he cringed at the urgent tone his voice had adopted. _Come on, come on, hurry up! This is getting dangerous; I can't expose Light to the toxin for much longer without causing harmful side effects!_

Another agonizing pause. Then, "Fine, you've got me." Her head was bowed, voice low and resigned. "I don't know where it is exactly because I've sent it in the mail to hide it."

"Tell me where it's heading _now._ "

"Well, I was about to move to a new place, but I feared that the Kira investigation was already on my tail—so I sent the notebook ahead of me just in case I was searched."

" _Where?"_

"It should be arriving at the Teito Hotel within the next day."

L slammed his hand down on the keyboard, ceasing the flow of toxin, then pushed the laptop shut. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said, not really meaning it, before he left the room in a rush of movement. He'd have Watari return Misa to her cell in a few hours, after Light had been taken to the infirmary. Lingering just outside the door, he placed his thumb over the intercom button and said, "Watari, move Light to the infirmary as planned. I'll be up shortly."

_"It will be done."_

Knowing Light would be taken care of, L wasted no time in pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dialing the number of the head of his personal police force. He didn't bother with introductions, merely leaving the man a message. "I need you to confiscate all packages incoming to the Teito Hotel, effective immediately. Open none of them, and have them redirected here. I'll contact you once I have what I need." Without waiting for a response, L hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Now he could focus on something important—checking up on Light.

†††

The process of waking up was long and painful for Light, who, upon opening his eyes, felt as if his entire body had been passed through a wood chipper. Unfortunately, he could remember every moment of what had occurred just before he passed out. _L wasn't exaggerating when he said it would hurt,_ he acknowledged with a soft groan, bringing one sluggish hand up to his head. _I thought that stuff was just supposed to knock me out, not make me feel dead._ He blinked repeatedly as his eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light around him, and within a matter of moments he realized that he was staring at the ceiling of a room that was definitely not where he normally stayed. It took his still-waking brain a moment to remember just where he was—the infirmary. He'd never been there before, but he vaguely remembered L telling him that this was where he'd be waking up. And speaking of L…where was he? Light managed to press his palms to the mattress and, weak as he was, lift himself slightly up against the pillows. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the dark splash of hair that he associated with L, but he found nothing. L…wasn't there? Light fought a sharp spike of disappointment as he lamented, _I thought he would be here right when I woke up. Oh well, I suppose he has his hands full with Misa. I can't fault him for that._ But still, he was disappointed—and no matter how much he told himself to stop behaving so emotionally, he still found himself pouting slightly that L wasn't there to see him. _Calm it down, Yagami. You don't even know what L is to you. You haven't exactly defined the terms of your relationship._

And then, as if in answer to his irritation, the door swung open, and L rushed in. He stopped in the doorway upon seeing Light awake, an unreadable expression on his face. "Ah…" he said awkwardly, shuffling his feet. He obviously hadn't expected to find Light awake so soon. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Light groaned in response, shaking his head lightly in an attempt to clear it. "Seriously, it's like someone ran me over…"

"Well, that is understandable, I suppose. You were exposed for a bit longer than I would have liked, seeing as Misa was frustratingly slow to cooperate."

So that was why. "But she did cooperate, yes? You know the location of the notebook?"

There was no mistaking the smug expression on L's face—he had its location. "It is currently on its way to the Teito Hotel. I've ordered my men to await its arrival and send it here immediately."

A huge wave of relief swept over Light. He leaned back against the pillows, letting out a deep sigh of relief. "So that's it, then…" he said, stunned. "We've taken Misa out of the game."

"For the most part I'd say that's correct. However, we'll have to remember that Misa's shinigami is still an issue, and deciding what exactly we'll do with Misa is also problematic."

"Well," Light murmured thoughtfully, "getting rid of her shinigami shouldn't be too much of a problem. You wore a mask while you spoke to her, no? Her shinigami shouldn't know your name. Therefore, she cannot kill you."

L agreed with a brief nod of his head. "But I can't wear a mask forever. If Rem were to leave Misa right now and come to us, she would see my face and learn my name. Then she would be able to kill me no matter what I did."

"Sounds like a problem." Light ran his hands over the sheets, fingers plucking at a loose string as he tried to work out a solution to the problem at hand. "Hmm…well, if you can't hide your face forever, we'll have to kill her. It shouldn't be that hard. We just need to put Misa into a situation where Rem will be forced to write someone's name in her Death Note to save her. We know she'll do it, if the notebook is any indication."

L immediately looked uncomfortable. "I've already tried that, actually. That day in Aoyama…I attempted to kill her, but I failed."

He'd already known that. "We'll just have to do something else," Light mused. "I'm not sure how we'll set it up, though. We don't want to put Misa in any more danger than we have to, but the only way we can use the notebook is if we're using it on someone who's already been sentenced to death. She'll have to get close enough to a criminal to be in immediate danger, and I don't like that much."

"We can't use the notebook," L interjected. "Using the notebook to force someone to attack Misa won't decrease her lifespan, so Rem won't need to act against the criminal. That's the whole reason my plan to kill Rem in Aoyama failed."

"Oh, of course…" He remembered, kicking himself mentally for forgetting in the first place. "Then we'll have to find another way to do it."

"True, but I haven't been able to figure one out," L admitted. "Unless you have something, then…"

Light shook his head, and the two fell into silence, each attempting to think of a solution. And… _was_ there a solution? Surely there had to be. They could just place Misa in a dangerous situation and hope her lifespan shot down, but if Rem had seen L's name and face at some point (which was increasingly likely), then she'd kill him before saving Misa by getting rid of whoever was threaten her. They had to create a situation in which Rem was too panicked to think of killing L before dying herself…and that seemed impossible.

And then Light blinked, and everything fell into place. "I know what to do."

L raised his head. "What is it?"

Light hesitated then, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but…I can't tell you."

"What?" L demanded, irritated. "What do you mean you can't tell me? I thought we were working together now."

"It's just…" Light fidgeted uncomfortably. "If it's going to work, your reactions have to be genuine. If Rem thinks you're acting—if she even _remotely suspects_ that you're faking it—then she's not going to act, and our plan will fail. L, please—I'm asking you to trust me on this one."

He didn't look pleased. "Trust you?"

" _Yes,_ L. Please trust me." He gripped L's wrist imploringly, knowing that this plan he'd begun to develop was the only way.

"Can you tell me _anything_ about this plan of yours?"

"We'll need to use the notebook," Light said quickly, mental gears whirring at top speed. "A criminal will need to attack Misa."

"But I've already told you that that won't work, because—"

"It's not the same plan you used," Light assured him. "This one will work—I just need to make sure that we're present when a criminal attempts to attack Misa. They won't be able to harm her, obviously, seeing as they'll be controlled by the notebook, but that doesn't matter. I'm going to make it work." Then he paused, losing himself in thought for a moment. "It'll be tough to get a criminal in here, though…especially seeing as this place is guarded so heavily."

For a moment, L just stared. Then a visible wave of understanding crashed over him, and he said, "Oh, no, Light—we don't _have_ to use a criminal, if using an innocent will make things easier."

"What?" Light stared for a moment, waiting for L to laugh and say that he was joking—but it never happened. "What do you mean we don't have to use a criminal? The person we use to attack Misa will die, seeing as we'll be writing their name in the Death Note, so of course they have to be a criminal! They have to be someone that's already been sentenced to death!"

L didn't seem to hear him. He turned his head, casting a glance down the hallway, then closed and locked the door. He immediately made for Light, hopping up onto the bed across from him and crouching in that odd way of his.

"L, what—?"

"I think this is a good time to teach you something about the Death Note."

Oh, so that was what this was about. Frowning deeply, Light responded, "I don't care what you're going to teach me, killing someone who isn't a criminal is wrong."

L waved a hand noncommittally, insisting, "Just hear me out, okay?" He brought his thumb to his mouth, lips parting slightly as his brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm…where to start? Okay, how about this—if Rem is allowed to live, she will most likely give Misa's notebook to someone else once she gets it back, right?"

"I…I suppose," Light said, unsure of where L was going.

"And if Rem gives her notebook to anther human, no matter how far it is in the future, they will no doubt kill innocent people, correct? It is very unlikely that they will share the same morals as the two of us."

"…Yes, that sounds right."

"And can we also agree that the new owner of the notebook will kill more than one innocent person?"

"That seems likely, yes." Light was beginning to suspect what L was getting at, and he didn't like it.

"Then does it make sense that we can sacrifice one, tiny, innocent life to stop that future slew of murders? One insignificant flicker of sentience in return for Misa's safety?"

_Oh god, this is exactly what I was scared he was going to say._ "L," Light whispered, "that logic makes you sound like Kira. Surely you realize you're thinking the same way he would!"

L recoiled, visibly repulsed at the comparison. "I am nothing like Kira," he insisted. "I am sacrificing one life to both keep Misa safe and prevent future deaths, not murdering thousands of people needlessly."

Dipping his head, Light responded in a hushed tone. "Kira didn't think the deaths were needless. He, like you, believed that they occurred in order to stop future deaths."

L glared, and the force of his glare was staggering. "This is different."

"It is not."

"Light, please don't be difficult. Can't you see that sacrificing one life will save countless others by getting rid of Rem? And if we go through all the trouble of forcing a condemned criminal to attack Misa, something may go wrong, and she could die."

"Nothing could go wrong!" Light insisted. "The notebook can't make one person hurt another, so there's no risk that she'll die!"

"Even so, it is dangerous to have her in the same room as someone who's evil enough to have been sentenced to death, don't you agree? Think about this, Light—we could eliminate Rem, keep Misa safe, save countless others…and there would no longer be any risk that I would die, nor you."

"You're asking me to murder an innocent to save myself," Light snapped bitterly.

"And so much _more._ Don't you understand?"

"I understand that you're trying to justify _murder._ "

That expression of frustration on L's face was growing with every passing moment. "Would you rather die? Would you rather _me_ die?"

"You're asking me to weigh one life against another?" Light whispered.

"It was a yes or no question, Light. Do you want to die?"

Light clenched his teeth painfully. _Maybe…maybe it would be better if I did._ "No."

"Then we must do this."

L was wrong. L was wrong, and Light knew it. He knew that if the detective did this, he would be no better than Kira _._ But L was powerful, L was determined, L was…well, he was _L._ He'd roll right over Light without a second thought if it meant achieving his goals.

"Well?" L snapped.

Light raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "Okay," he said, taking on a calming tone. "Okay, L, just…calm down. If you want to do this, then I can't stand in your way—but I won't be the one writing in the notebook. I refuse to kill innocents—and _you_ need to understand that it's wrong."

The detective's eyes narrowed. "A compromise, then—I won't use an innocent, I'll use a minor criminal. Someone weak, someone who won't be able to hurt Misa even if they try. That way, it'll be easy to sneak them through town and into headquarters without them being recognized, and it won't be an innocent being killed. Is that better?"

"It's not right…" Then, seeing that glare intensifying once more, Light amended, "…But right now, it looks like the best we can do."

And just like that, all the anger drained out of L's expression. "Good."

His sudden change in attitude left Light unnerved. The way L seemed to snap back and forth between pleased and furious was quite concerning…especially when those swift changes in attitude led to bodily harm, as it had the night L had slammed him back against the wall after finding out his notebook had been taken from its hiding place. _Another thing I'll have to work on with him,_ Light thought, though the idea didn't make him feel any better. _I…I hope this doesn't happen with any regularity._

"I'll take care of the writing," L assured him. "In the meantime, we need to decide once and for all: do we frame Misa as Kira?"

"I believe that would be best, yes. She's killed countless innocents, and if we really want to work together to make this world a better place, we'll need to provide some sort of front for ending the Kira case. If we frame Misa, we can halt all killings for the few weeks necessary to declare that all Kiras have been decommissioned. That will lead to the closing of the case and the disbanding of the task force. Once all contact has been cut off and we're out of the country, we'll resume the killings. We can send a message through the ICPO to not just the task force, but the rest of the police agencies around the world, telling them to leave the Kira case in our hands. It'll work perfectly, if everything goes right."

"I couldn't agree more," L murmured. "The only problem is the fact that your notebook has been taken. If we frame and arrest Misa, and the person who now owns your notebook begins killing during the period in which she—and consequently, Kira—is supposedly unable to kill, then it could ruin everything. The investigation could open up again, and we could be left with quite a mess to clean up."

"So it's a gamble, then," Light reasoned thoughtfully. "You told me that the person with my notebook hasn't killed yet—or at least, not in a way you can discern, correct? If that's the case, then I say we go through with the plan and cross our fingers that he doesn't decide to start testing it out at the wrong time."

L gave a brief nod. His fingers were twisting circles on the knees of his jeans, though, suggesting that he wasn't as on board with the plan as Light was. "It seems that that's our best option. However, we have one other path we can take—let the task force help us track down whoever it is that has taken the notebook, and frame that person instead of Misa. That way we'd still have their help."

Raising a brow, Light questioned, "You really value their help enough to keep them around? I mean, what have they actually done? Why did you even gather them in the first place?"

"To be perfectly honest, I only gathered them because the version of me described in the Death Note did it. And what's more, I read that Kira was connected to one of the members of the task force. It seemed like if I assembled them early, I could find you early and shut you down before you had the chance to take even one innocent life. Now, though…it just seems foolish." He paused, gaze cast down towards his feet. "I think you're right. We should frame Misa as the orchestrator of this whole mess and have her arrested. She'll be tried and most likely sentenced to death for what she's done. It…it's the easiest way."

"And what about my role? It'll take a few days to set Misa up, and longer after that to have her convicted and sent to prison so that the case can be officially closed. Do you really think you're going to just lock me in your room for all that time?"

A small smirk graced L's features as he chuckled, "No, Light. I plan to speak with the task force within the hour about you joining them for the last few weeks, as you requested. Besides, like you said earlier, if your father is going to let you come with me after this ends—not that he really has a choice, of course—he'll need to see that you actually want to be in my presence, and that I'm not just forcing you to accompany me because I believe you're Kira."

"Good point."

"You're the one who made it in the first place."

"Hmm…" Light pushed himself off the pillows, sitting without aid. He felt a bit better now. The fog in his head had mostly cleared up, and his muscles were beginning to relax, the ache slowly subsiding. "So, when do I start?"

"I'll speak with them now, if you're okay with being left alone for a few minutes."

"The fact that you're okay with not monitoring me for a few minutes makes me happier than you can imagine," Light hummed, pushing himself out of bed to stretch his cramping muscles. "Go on, I'll be waiting here for you."

"Very well." L got to his feet somewhat awkwardly given the position he was in and turned for the door. Then he paused, swinging back around to face Light, who was stretching his arms above his head contentedly. He gave a small, uncharacteristically lighthearted laugh.

"What is it?" Light inquired, lowering his arms and flexing his fingers experimentally. He winced as his bones popped quietly.

"Isn't it funny?" L asked, his normal monotone lifting in favor of a lighter, amused tone. "Just a month or two ago, we'd never met—and now here we are about to begin the creation of a new world together."

Despite himself, Light let out a brief laugh. It wasn't funny, really—but the stark, plain way L said it struck him as vaguely amusing. "I suppose when you say it like that, it is a bit strange. Normally people know each other for more than a couple of months before they decide to forge a new life together."

Light immediately regretted his wording as L flushed palely. But to his relief, the detective didn't seem displeased. "Is that a problem?" he asked, tone soft and questioning.

"Not unless you think it is," the teen responded, surprised by L's sudden gentleness.

L let out a tiny huff, which Light took as a sigh of relief. "Good...I'd hate to force you into doing something you didn't want to."

"No, I don't think you have to worry about—" Light cut himself off with a gasp as L moved suddenly, and the next moment he felt a vice grip close around his waist. For a moment he felt a flicker of fear, remembering what had happened the last time L gripped him this harshly—but then the hands at his waist vanished as they slipped behind his back, a constricting feeling spread across his torso, and he realized that L wasn't hurting him at all—rather, he was hugging him. In a matter of seconds Light shook himself from his surprise and wrapped his arms around L in return, flickers of alarm dying in his chest as the detective rested his head on his shoulder. "A hug?" Light questioned, amused now that any immediate danger had passed. "Now, tell me, what have I done to deserve such kindness from the great L?"

The detective didn't respond. Instead, he pulled Light even closer, arms tightening around him until the teen thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen.

"L," he warned breathlessly, "you're going to make me pass out again…"

The detective stayed locked in place for a moment longer. Then he drew back slightly, his grip loosening without falling away entirely. He stared down at Light, and the teen realized abruptly that L was taller than him by a few inches more than he'd thought. "Sorry," he said bluntly. "That was a bit sudden. I'm just…glad you're okay."

"Honestly, L," Light responded, hoping the detective was unable to feel his heartbeat, "it's not that big a deal. It hurt a bit, but we got what we wanted."

"Hmm…" L looked troubled, but he said nothing to elaborate on what could possibly be concerning him. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips briefly to the crown of the teen's head, then drew away entirely.

"What," Light teased, "too scared to actually kiss me? It has been several days, you know…have you lost your nerve entirely?" He paused then, wondering at the words that had spilled so effortlessly from his mouth. _Flirting_ with L? Really?

The detective didn't seem to realize his internal struggle, though, for he offered a mischievous grin in return, saying, "There'll be plenty of time for that after you've rejoined the task force, Light. Trust me…" He leaned forward again, lips in almost uncomfortable proximity to Light's ear as he wrapped his fingers around his wrists. "…It'll be worth the wait."

Light opened his mouth to say something witty in response, but all that escaped was a little gasp that immediately prompted a dark grin from L. The detective pulled away suddenly, fingers leaving a soft tingling sensation around Light's wrists, the lingering sensation of breath at his ear making him shiver. That positively _lecherous_ grin on L's face remained firmly fixed as he took a few steps backward, still facing Light, before turning and striding out the door confidently.

And Light, left staring after him, left fingers rubbing at his right wrist, he briefly wondered just what kind of a mess he may have just gotten himself into.

†††

The instant he was out of Light's sight, L's expression immediately turned deadly. _Foolish…_ he thought bitterly. _He really thinks that sacrificing an innocent to get rid of Rem is evil? He is wrong. I can save so many lives, get rid of my worst enemy, just by giving up the life of a single person. Who could call that evil? Only someone short sighted and imprudent could overlook such an opportunity. This is why I'm going to have to teach Light everything I know—so he doesn't make mistakes like this._

L made a sharp turn for one of the side rooms, ducking inside and latching the door behind him. There were cameras in the room, of course, but L disabled them within a matter of minutes. He wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do. And so, making sure all cameras were not just off, but pointed towards walls, L pulled the Death Note from its hiding place beneath his shirt, removed it from its protective sleeve, pulled on his gloves, and flipped the notebook open to the next blank page. "I'll play along for now, Light," he murmured, turning on the TV that hung on one wall of the room (looking around, L realized that he'd chosen to enter one of the guest rooms, complete with a king sized bed and massive wardrobe in the corner) and flipping to a news station. He pressed his pen to his lips briefly, lost in thought. "Let's see…" he murmured aloud. "This may be a bit tricky. I'll need to choose a criminal and find a way to get them to Misa without alerting Watari or the rest of the task force. What's more, I'll need to make sure I use an actual criminal, just in case Light checks later." L hummed thoughtfully, teeth closing lightly on the end of his pen. It wouldn't be easy to set up the situation Light had requested in order to get rid of Rem. Or…would it?

_I may be overthinking this. With a little work, I may be able to make sure Watari is out of the way long enough to get the criminal inside and send them in the direction of Misa's cell. Yeah, that's it—I can set the security cameras along a set path on a loop and make the criminal sneak in that way, so that they won't be caught. After that, it'll be as good as over. The criminal will find Misa, and Light will carry out his plan to make sure that Rem sacrifices herself to save her. All I have to do is scribble a few things down in the Death Note—after I choose a criminal, of course—and it will all come together._

L's eyes skimmed over the words scrolling across the bottom of the TV as the news story played. Someone had attempted to rob a convenience store, it appeared, and had escaped. They had his name and face, though, and expected to find him soon. But that would never happen, for L had already written his name and was beginning to specify the terms of death. _He's not exactly a hardened criminal,_ L thought, _and I hardly think he's what Light meant when he told me to use someone who deserved it. But he's technically committed a crime, and I can hardly feel sorry for someone who's dying to make the world a better place._ Pen scratched across paper rhythmically, carving out the criminal's death. In a few moments, his fate had been sealed. The criminal would stay out of sight until the following night. Then, at two in the morning, he would make his way to task force headquarters under the cover of darkness and slip in through the back entrance, then proceed down a path on which L would have looped the cameras. The rest would soon be history.

L slipped the notebook back into its protective sleeve and shoved it beneath his shirt, removing his gloves and stuffing them into his pockets. Now he'd just have to speak to the task force about letting Light join the investigation, and the stage really would be set. He had no doubt that they would agree, especially seeing as it was a definite step up from Light being kept in a cell every day.

A soft click sounded as L turned off the TV, throwing the remote carelessly on the bedside table and heading for the door. It was time to fit the last piece of the puzzle into place.


	24. Ingwaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beyond is my favorite character in this story, I swear. He's so fun to write!

That night, after the task force went home, L returned to the infirmary. Light was right where he'd left him, sprawled out across the cot. It seemed that the day had been quite tiring for the teen, for he'd fallen fast asleep, to the point where he didn't even stir when L opened the door and entered the infirmary.

"Light?" L called softly as he walked further into the room. "Wake up, it's time to get you out of here." There was no response. And so L, in typical fashion, strolled over to Light's bed and leaned over him. He dipped his head close to the teen, murmuring, "I spoke to the task force about you joining them." Still, no response. Rolling his eyes, L reached out and sealed a hand to Light's shoulder, shaking him lightly.

There was a brief pause. Then Light shifted slightly, groaning as L shook him.

"Time to head back," L insisted, shaking him harder in an attempt to irritate him awake.

"…Don't want to," Light murmured in response, eyes blearily opening.

"I spoke with the task force," L repeated.

_That_ woke him up. Light shot up, nearly banging his forehead into L's as he gasped, "What did they say? Can I leave that cell and help?"

Unable to stop the smile that formed upon seeing Light so excited, L responded, "They had no qualms about you joining us, as I suspected. You can join us in the investigation room tomorrow, though you won't exactly be able to do much, seeing as _you're_ the one we're looking for."

"I'll find the person who stole my notebook," Light insisted boldly, a broad grin on his face. "I'll find him and bring him down, and all of our problems will be solved."

Such naivety was endearing. "As you say," he confirmed. "I'm sure you'll prove to be a valuable member of the investigation team—though for different reasons than the ones listed in that damn story."

Light offered him another smile. But then he paused, expression darkening slightly. "Wait—you said a moment ago that it was time to go back. And since I'm not starting in the investigation room until tomorrow…does that mean you're planning to take me right back to that cell?" He huffed. "I told you, if we're working together now then you're not keeping me locked up."

L shook his head immediately, proclaiming, "Oh, no, Light. You won't have to return to that place."

"No?"

"No," L confirmed with a mischievous smirk. "You said it yourself—we're working together now, as equals. Or at least, as close to equals as we can possibly get at the current moment in time. And you don't really think I'll let my precious partner spend all his time in a dingy cell, do you? While you were a Kira suspect it was excusable, but now you're officially no longer under suspicion."

Watching Light's eyes light up with wonder was one of the best experiences L could remember having. Then again, his life had been quite abysmal up until he met Light. "Then…"

"You don't have to go back," the detective confirmed smugly. "Of course, I'll still wish to keep you close to me for safety's sake—so for the time being, we'll be sharing a room. I know it's not ideal, but—"

"Are you kidding?" Light sighed happily. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted to sleep in a real bed instead of that cot; I don't care if I have to share a room at this point. And I can actually wear _my_ clothes, and use _my_ hair products, and be _me_ again!" He appeared just a few moments away from beginning to jump up and down out of pure excitement.

L chuckled, "You may want to hold all that excitement in until you're settled in. It'll be quite difficult living with me, you know."

"I don't care as long as I'm not locked up. Now come on, I want to see where I'll be staying." Light pushed himself out of bed, tried to take a step, and pitched forward immediately.

"Hey!" L yelped, lunging forward and catching the teen before he could hit the ground. "What—?" He looked down at Light, about to tell him off for being so careless, but the sight he was met with immediately melted all hints of anger.

"Oh, sorry about that," Light said nervously, regaining his balance and reaching for his legs, which had become entangled in sheets, tripping him as he tried to stand too quickly. "I'm just a bit excited, that's all."

L shook his head bemusedly, both amused and exasperated by Light's behavior. "Let's just leave before you fall over again and hit your head."

The teen gave a brief, embarrassed nod. Then he rushed out of the room, clearly eager to be anywhere but the infirmary or the cell he'd been kept in for weeks. L followed close behind, keeping watch over the teen as he headed down the hall.

"Just where do you think you're going?" L inquired, amused. "You have no idea where my room is."

"Then tell me where to go," was the lighthearted response.

"Well, for starters, you're going the wrong way."

Light skidded to a halt, whirling around with a mix of irritation and amusement on his face. "L, come on—where is it?" he questioned.

The detective couldn't keep a straight face in the presence of such excitement. "Fine, fine," he sighed in fake exasperation. "Come on, I'll show you." He reached out, fingers locking around Light's firmly.

L didn't let go, and Light didn't say a thing.

†††

"This is perfect!" Light proclaimed, eyes searching the room as he stood in the doorway.

L supposed that anything must seem like a palace after so long locked away in either a small hotel room or a cell. "It's not much," he said, "but it'll have to do for the time being, okay?"

Light didn't seem to mind. He took a step further into the room, marveling at the massive wall of computer screens and the bookshelves that lined the far wall, right beside the large bed. Either he didn't notice that there was only one bed or he simply didn't comment on it. "It's beautiful." He rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly, admitting, "I've never seen a room this fancy before."

_Fancy?_ L had never thought of his room as fancy. But now, looking around at it, he saw why Light called it such a thing. Every computer was top notch, every book was first edition—even the rare ones—and the artwork hung sparsely around the room courtesy of Watari could be sold for a pretty penny. The bed too, of course, was a sight to behold, with its luxurious comforter and silken sheets. _Light will be sleeping in that bed,_ L realized suddenly. _And…I will be sleeping in that bed as well. I wonder how he'll react to such a thing. He's very prideful, so I'd guess his reaction will be negative…but then again, he seems very fond of me. Perhaps he won't mind._

"Does that door lead to the bathroom?" Light inquired, waving a hand in the direction of the massive wardrobe, where a simple door was open to reveal what was presumably another room, though it was too dark to see into.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Can I take a shower?" Light asked immediately, looking far too excited about something so simple.

"Be my guest."

Light made for the door without a second thought. But then he paused, looking back at L, who was standing in the same place as before. "You…you're not going to make me shower in the same room as you?"

"I am choosing to place a certain degree of trust in you, Light," L responded. "I do not believe you will do anything sinister while you are showering."

The teen's eyes widened. Then he whirled around and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. A moment later the shower clicked on.

As Light showered, L lowered himself slowly onto the bed, sighing deeply. His hands rose, fingers tangling in his hair. In a little over twenty-four hours, Light's plan would be executed, and Rem would die. He tried to worry about it, tried to convince himself that he was concerned—but in the face of Light's happiness, he found himself unable to spend much energy dwelling upon something that was already set in stone. Instead, all he could think of was the teen showering in the next room over. He was so happy, so full of energy over something so simple. L wished he could be placated so easily.

For the thirty minutes it took for Light to finish his shower, L nearly drove himself mad over the fact that he found himself unable to think about anything else but _him._ And so when Light finally emerged, the door's lock clicking, the door itself swinging inward, L was quite relieved. _Thank goodness,_ he thought, _I was about to go mad._

"Hey, L, I don't suppose you had my clothes brought up here?"

"No, I didn't," L responded, completely unaware of the implications those words had. "You can borrow mine if—" Then he looked up, and he found himself at a loss for words. "If, ah…"

And Light, standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, made things _oh so much worse_ when he pouted, "Come on, L, I can't just stand here in nothing but a towel! It's cold!"

_Oh god, maybe this was a bad idea._ L gulped, jerking his eyes away from Light as he continued to drip water all over the floor. "The wardrobe has clothing," he said, staring at the ceiling. "Help yourself; I'll be sure to have your clothes sent here soon."

Light immediately made for the wardrobe, and L made a vicious effort to _not_ stare openly at the half naked teenager. He cringed. _Oh, that sounded bad. Reminder: stop referring to the person you're sexually attracted to as a teenager. Not good._

_He's eighteen,_ another part of his mind argued. _He's of age, even if he's still a teenager._

_That does not make it okay! I'm far older than him, most people would see this as incredibly creepy!_

_They think you're creepy anyways; this isn't going to change that._

_Still, I can't—_

Light groaned suddenly, breaking L from his thoughts. "Seriously, L, do you have anything other than white long-sleeved shirts and jeans? It's weird."

"Hmm…" L craned his neck, peering into his closet and certainly _not_ peering at Light. "That's a no on the shirts, but there should be some sweats under that pile of jeans in the right corner."

Light shuffled around a bit, then let out a triumphant noise as he pulled out a pair of navy blue sweats. "Excellent," he breathed. "I was afraid I would be sleeping in jeans." He turned and headed back for the bathroom, vanishing with clothes in hand and reappearing a few minutes later fully clothed.

"Do you feel better?" L inquired, noticing that his white shirt looked a whole lot more appealing when Light was wearing it.

"Yeah, tons," Light yawned.

"Sill tired?"

He gave a shallow nod. "That gas really wiped me out," he admitted. "Sorry I'm not much for conversation at the moment."

"It's not a big deal." L patted the bed beside him, offering, "You can get some rest if you'd like."

Light gave a grateful nod, trudging over to the bed. He circled to the side across from L and flopped down on his stomach, wet hair leaving tiny damp patches on the pillow. L waited for him to say something about sharing a bed, but no words came.

Finally, L could take it no longer. "Aren't you displeased with sharing a bed?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Light raised his head. "Not really, no."

L stared. "Not even a little?"

"No," the teen repeated with a frown. "Did you want me to be upset?"

"I…I just thought you'd be a bit more adverse to it, that's all. You're so prideful, and—"

"Pride?" Light scoffed. "Seriously, L? You've strapped me to a bed, interrogated me ruthlessly, broken me down to tears, kept me under constant surveillance, taken showers with me, _kissed_ me…and you think I have _any_ semblance of pride left when I'm around you?"

L blinked, taken aback. "I suppose I never thought of it that way."

The teen gave him a warm, sleepy smile. "Besides…it's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

"Hmm…that's true." L watched as Light burrowed further into the pillows comfortably. "Light?"

"Yes, L?"

A pause. Then, "I hope we can end this soon."

The teen didn't even raise his head. "I agree. It'll be good to leave this mess behind us and start working on helping people." His voice was muffled against the pillows, barely audible.

Another pause. "Light…"

Light groaned, rolling onto his back so he didn't have to waste effort on raising his head. "Geez, L, what's wrong? You're awfully chatty tonight, especially for so late at night. Or is it early in the morning at this point…?

L stared down at his companion, finding himself entranced by those half-lidded amber eyes. For just a moment, he found himself unable to speak. There were so many things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask—so many, in fact, that instead of asking any of them, he observed bluntly, "You smell like cake."

He stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Then he grinned tiredly, saying, "Well, we're sharing a shower. It's not unlikely that some of your vanilla cake-scented shampoo got on me."

"Hmm, yes…vanilla cake," the detective hummed vaguely, kicking himself for being unable to express any of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. "It smells good."

Light shot him a strange look, crossing his arms behind his head. "Glad you approve." Another pause ensued, in which instead of trying to sleep, Light continued to stare at L thoughtfully. "Hey, L…is something bothering you?"

"No," L assured him, thought the slight frown on his face said otherwise. He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards Light, hovering slightly over him and gazing down intensely.

"What's that look for?" the teen inquired.

"Just…thinking." He held his position, unmoving.

Light yawned. "If you're worried about the case, then don't be. Once Misa is behind bars, everything will get a whole lot easier."

"I know." He didn't know. He leaned further over Light, one hand shooting out to keep his balance, landing on Light's other side. L realized too late that he'd effectively trapped Light, and he immediately hoped that the teen wouldn't be upset. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered.

"L?" he questioned. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

He was too innocent for his own good, L thought bitterly. Too beautiful. Up until this point L had been able to push it aside, if only momentarily, in favor of working on the task at hand. But now, there was no immediate task. It was just him and Light, and the dozens of times he'd pushed away even the smallest flickers of emotion regarding his younger companion were finally beginning to spill over. "Light." It wasn't a question, but a name spoken out of simple curiosity, to test how it rolled over his tongue, even though he'd tested it out countless times before.

"L…?" Light repeated, beginning to sound like a broken record. He still didn't seem nervous, though, or even remotely uncomfortable. Perhaps it had something to do with his fatigue, or maybe…

L bit down on the inside of his cheek, considering the thought that maybe, just maybe, Light was actually pleased to be in his presence. It was stupid, he knew it was—Light had already openly admitted to enjoying his companionship—but still, the thoughts swam through his mind. _Ah, screw it—I'm overthinking this._ "I care for you, Light."

"Yeah, I know. I care about you too."

Another long, drawn-out pause. "Light?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Light stared at him blankly for a moment. Then, a tiny smile found its way onto the teen's face, and he murmured playfully, "If you must."

L stared down at him for a moment, his words taking a moment longer than was normal to register in his brain. Then that tiny grin on Light's face got the better of him, and he could control himself no longer.

The first thing L recognized upon bringing his lips to Light's was the fact that the weeks of confinement hadn't been kind on the teen's skin. His lips were slightly chapped, a far cry from their original silky smoothness—but they were no less sweet, and no less enthralling. If anything, Light had become even more enticing. The detective found himself winding his fingers through Light's hair, tilting his head just slightly to the side so that he could increase his access. The teen didn't seem to mind—if anything, he seemed to appreciate the action, leaning into L's touch and sighing softly. A hand was curling into the back of his shirt, another slipping up to rest against his chest, not pushing him away, but simply resting there as if in an attempt to anchor himself to his companion.

Feeling his lungs begin to tighten in their plight for breath, L drew back. He held himself just inches from the teen, unwilling to move further away, unwilling to release Light for fear of something he couldn't quite put a name to. He held his gaze upon the teen without knowing why, and for some reason he couldn't comprehend, he found himself momentarily frozen. _What is this? Some form of foolish insecurity?_

Light looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the small slivers of amber burning with an emotion L couldn't quite put his finger on. The teen's fingers tightened their grip, urging him down, and L didn't have the will to resist as he was pulled in for a second kiss, a mere press of lips before Light pushed him just slightly away. "L," a soft voice murmured, though no words followed the uttering of his name.

The detective combed his fingers through Light's hair. There was something strange in the air between them, something he didn't understand. "What is it?" L prompted, feeling that there was something that needed to be said.

Light's fingers brushed lightly at the nape of his neck, a hesitant expression on his face. "L, what is this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" The teen waved a hand, vaguely indicating the entirety of the room around them. "I mean _this._ What we're doing. We haven't exactly defined any of this, don't you think?"

"Does it need definition?"

Light turned his gaze downward, staring at the covers. "It's just confusing, is all. You kissed me once, days ago, and then you just…stopped. But now here we are, doing…whatever _this_ is. I just want to know what it means. Can you understand that?"

L sighed, drawing back further. He had to admit that he'd spent a fair bit of time pondering just what Light was to him, but he'd never reached a firm conclusion. "I care about you."

"Yes, you've said that. But what does that make us?"

"What do you want it to make us?"

Light huffed, breath ruffling his hair. "I don't know, L, that's why I asked you."

"Well then," the detective said, "why don't we just wait to give this a name until you know what you want?"

"Wait, but—"

L reached out once again, clasping his hands to Light's shoulders and holding him gently in place. "Light. I care for you, and I wish to remain in your presence. So long as you feel the same, then I do not believe that we need to label whatever it is that is happening here. Do you agree?"

Light stared up at him, conflict raging in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain." The detective leaned closer, pressing his lips to Light's for only a brief moment. "Let's not define things that require no definition."

There was a moment of tense silence, in which the two locked eyes in silence. Then Light's shoulders sunk slightly, and he relented, "Okay. I'm going to trust you."

"Thank you," L whispered. And as he leaned down, resuming their kiss, he knew that Light could never truly appreciate just how much those words meant to him.

†††

When Light woke up the next morning, he was met with the comfortable feeling of L's arms wrapped around him and the even more comfortable feeling of the detective's form pressed securely against his back. For a long moment he did nothing but remain completely still, enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other male. But slowly, as he returned to consciousness, he realized that L's alarm was sounding, which meant that the detective had actually slept long enough for it to go off. Hmph…he'd better turn it off.

Light tried to reach for L's phone, which rested on the bedside table next to him. But to his dismay (or at least, that's what he told himself) L's grip was too tight to do much more than get within two feet of the beeping alarm. Light let out a tiny half-content, half irritated sigh, urging, "L, are you awake?"

The detective huffed quietly, signaling his transition back to the waking world. He shifted slightly against Light's back, arms tightening further. "I'm comfortable, Light. I don't want to move."

"Come on, you'll have plenty of time to rest once Misa's been taken care of."

Those arms managed to tighten even further, and Light thought he might choke. L, seemingly unaware of Light's conundrum, murmured, "But I don't want to…"

"Your alarm is driving me nuts," Light protested, though he felt himself pressing back into the warmth that L provided. "I can't reach it with you holding my arms down."

The detective rested his forehead against the space between Light's shoulder blades, his groan sending small vibrations running down his spine. "Fine, fine…" He unwrapped one arm from around Light's torso, releasing one of the teen's arms from his death grip.

"Thanks," Light huffed, somewhat sarcastically, as he reached out his newly freed arm and grabbed L's phone, turning off the alarm. "We should get going, the task force will be in soon."

"It can wait for a few minutes," L insisted. He recaptured Light's arm with little effort, and the fact that the teen wasn't fighting him quickened things significantly.

"Now, now, what is the task force going to think if I'm late to my first day on the job?"

"They'll understand so long as I come in late with you."

"Well, then my father might get strange ideas about the two of us. You don't want that, do you? You're trying to get on his good side, after all."

Another groan. "To hell with the lot of them. They can wait a few minutes."

"Hmm…" Another few minutes passed in silence, the only movements passed between the two being the tiny circles L was drawing on the back of Light's left shoulder blade. Then, "We really should get up."

"Soon."

†††

About two hours later, Light finally forced L out of bed. The morning was slow, however, for L seemed to have retained an unusual sense of laziness from having slept so long. Seeing as all of Light's clothing was still stored in a closet down in his old cell, L simply let him borrow another one of his white shirts and a pair of incredibly baggy jeans. Light wasn't exactly pleased, but it would have to do for the time being. After he got dressed, it was a simple matter of grabbing something to eat, fixing up his hair, and dragging L with him to the elevator.

"I'm not sure where to start," Light admitted as the elevator carried them towards the investigation room. "Anyone could have stolen the notebook, honestly, and we can't gain any information from their patterns of killing if they aren't actually killing anyone."

"I know what you mean," was L's response. He ran a tired hand through his hair, which he hadn't even bothered to comb out. In fact, Light could still see a swoop in the detective's hair from where he'd been pressing his forehead against his back. "I've been dealing with that problem for several days so far, and I haven't found anything."

"Well, maybe I'll be able to help you out a bit. Fingers crossed, right?"

The elevator dinged. "Fingers crossed, indeed."

Light was the first one out of the elevator as the doors slid open. He hadn't seen his father, hadn't seen the members of the investigation team, hadn't seen _anyone_ other than L for so long, and he was excited to finally speak to other people again. But unfortunately for him, L didn't seem too keen on him barging into the room—for just as Light attempted to walk forward, he reached out and grabbed him by the hand, complaining, "Don't walk so fast!"

Just as unfortunately, the task force turned around at that exact moment.

Including Light's father.

The happiness that Soichiro was no doubt feeling at being reunited with his son was overshadowed by the fact that said son appeared to be holding hands with L. And so when he spoke, instead of sounding pleased, he simply bit out, "Light, what is going on?"

_Oh, great,_ Light thought, feeling a deep blush spread across his cheeks. _What was it I said to L? Let's make a good impression?_

L released his hand slower than he should have, given the circumstances. "Apologies, Mr. Yagami," L droned, and Light was taken aback by the dull monotone his voice had slipped into. "I assure you, whatever conclusions you've reached are incorrect."

_Oh, of course,_ Light remembered, feeling somewhat disappointed that his companion was no longer acting in the way that he did while they were alone. _He'll have to wear his mask constantly when he's in the presence of others. That's how he was around me for a good chunk of time, after all._

Soichiro looked like he very much wanted to pursue the subject, but he dropped it in favor of addressing his son instead. "Light?" he asked stiffly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, father," he assured the man. "It's good to be out of that cell, that's for sure."

Soichiro gave him a stilted nod, appearing thoroughly irritated. He suspected that that irritation had something to do with the fact that L was practically pressed against his back at the moment, standing so close he could feel his body heat. The fact that he was wearing the detective's clothing couldn't have helped any, either. He supposed the two of them must have looked anything but innocent.

Light's father cleared his throat, proclaiming, "Well, there's no time to waste. Let's just get to work."

_So much for introductions,_ Light thought, amused. _Oh well, it's not like I don't already know the rest of the task force. My father is probably just eager to forget any of this ever happened._ Light shot L a questioning look, making sure it was really okay for him to work with the task force. And upon receiving a small smile and a nod, the teen took a few steps further into the room. The room itself was quite large, he noted, with dozens of computers scattered throughout. The members of the task force were all working relatively close to each other despite all the space around them. There was an unoccupied computer beside his father, Light noticed, and he knew that he should probably sit beside him. But then he turned his head to the right, and he saw what could only have been L's computer. The desk was littered with candy wrappers and crumbs, and a pile of what appeared to be empty containers of coffee creamer were stacked on top of each other beside the monitor in a crude imitation of a pyramid. Yes, this _had_ to be L's desk. And so without giving it a second thought, Light strolled over to it and plopped down in front of the computer right next to L's. He could practically feel Soichiro's gaze burning into his back as he reached out and turned on the computer. _He's mad,_ Light thought. _Well, it was bound to happen. After all, I'm supposed to be building the image of being friends with L, that way no one will protest when I say I want to go with him once the case ends._

There was a slight shuffle, and the next moment L was dropping into the seat beside him. He was watching Light out of the corners of his eyes with an overly satisfied expression, and he murmured, "Interesting choice of seat."

Raising his brow in a teasing manner, Light whispered back, "I'm sorry, did you want me to sit somewhere else? Because I just so happened to notice a seat beside my father, and…" He trailed off suggestively.

" _No."_ L's hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist. "I like you where you are."

He smirked. "That's what I thought." He gently removed his wrist from L's grasp, turning his gaze on his monitor. "This is more convenient, anyways, seeing as we're the only two who actually know what's going on."

"Agreed." L's fingers shot to his keyboard, the monitor lighting up as he began working. "I'm going to send you everything I've gathered so far concerning the person who took your notebook."

Light nodded, opening the computer's email application and signing in. A moment later the computer made a tiny noise as L's message popped up in the inbox. He wasted no time in opening the attached document (ignoring the rather distasteful message L had written him below it) and fitting it to the screen. He took a look at it, preparing to start analyzing whatever information L had gathered, and…

Nothing.

He was staring at a blank word document.

Shooting L an exasperated glance, he murmured, "Very funny, L."

The detective hid a smile in response, chuckling, "I did tell you that I didn't have anything."

"You could at least give me a list of victims to work with. I can't exactly use mine at the moment."

"Okay, okay…" L paused long enough so send over the correct document. "Good luck."

"Same to you." Light opened up the list of victims. It seemed as if L had compiled a list of every criminal that had _not_ been killed by the two of them, as well as the criminals' faces, times of death, and circumstances of death. Skimming down the list, he immediately picked out several that he recognized. "I can narrow your list down a bit," he said. "The person who took my notebook didn't kill a few of these people, at least."

L shot a weary glance behind him, making sure the task force wasn't paying attention—but even if they were, their voices were so low that it was incredibly unlikely they'd hear anything. "May I assume that you were the one…?"

"Yeah." Light began deleting a few of the names. "It's not very many, but it might give us a head start in determining which of these people were killed by Misa and which may have been killed by the thief—though, as we've concluded, it's very unlikely that he's killing at all, whoever he is."

L hummed in agreement. "I must admit that it puzzled me at first, the fact that criminals were still dying even when Misa was confined and you were taken out of action. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she must have set it up so that criminals would continue to die when she was confined."

"Yes, that's probably what she did. And if my calculations are right, there should still be a day or two more of criminals dying because of my actions."

"I hope that Misa didn't plan too far ahead," L whispered, leaning in close. His breath ghosted across Light's face as he spoke, and the teen shivered in response. "If she's set it up so that criminals continue to die for an extended length of time, then when we send her to jail, criminals will continue to die. The task force won't believe she's Kira."

"Well, we should have the notebook within the day, right? We can check then, and alter our plan accordingly."

L gave an approving nod. "Good thinking. This is why I want to keep you around. You make quite the companion, you know." The detective's fingers brushed lightly across his, though the touch was so brief that he wasn't entirely sure it had been intentional.

_Is he…is he flirting with me?_ Light gawked at the detective, taking in the tiny smirk gracing his features. _Oh yeah, he's totally flirting with me. He's terrible at it, too. What a dork._ Still, though, Light found himself smiling. "I'm flattered." That tiny smirk grew, and L's fingers inched across the table in Light's direction once again. They hadn't gotten more than a foot towards him before the teen cut him off with a murmured, "Watch it, L. No touching while my father is in the room."

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." The detective drew his fingers back and returned to his keyboard. "There will be plenty of time to touch you later."

†††

A few hours later, the inevitable happened.

"Light?" Soichiro asked, turning in his seat. "Would you step outside with me, please?"

Light flinched. He'd known that this was coming. His father would no doubt want to ask him privately about what had gone on in the past few weeks. There had been the phone calls, yes, but Soichiro probably still thought that L had been manipulating him, torturing him behind closed doors. In a way, he wasn't exactly wrong. The teen shot a glance at L, murmuring, "Is it okay if…?"

L didn't even turn his head. He'd claimed that he'd found something earlier in the day, and had been glued to the computer ever since. "You don't have to ask me, Light," he said. "You have your freedom back, for the most part."

"Great…" Light breathed, having secretly hoped that the detective would make an excuse to get him out of this particular conversation. He turned around, raising his voice to answer, "Sure, father. Just give me a moment." Light reluctantly got to his feet, stretching his legs momentarily. Then he moved for the door, brushing his fingers across L's shoulders as he moved. It was a subtle motion, perfectly hidden from Soichiro's view—though with the way L's head whipped around in surprise, it was entirely likely that the man knew something was up.

Soichiro held the door open, leading Light through it. They didn't go to the elevator, though, but rather through the door on the far wall. Looking around as they walked, Light realized that they were in a hallway he'd never seen before, seeing as he'd been unconscious when he'd entered the building for the first time, and he hadn't exactly had time to explore.

Soichiro pushed open one of the doors lining the hallway and led Light inside. It appeared to be a conference room, devoid of everything except a long table, a few dozen chairs, and a set of scarlet drapes covering a single large window on the far wall. Soichiro closed the door behind them with a soft click. Then he turned, leaning against it, a hand covering his eyes as his entire form practically resonated with exhaustion. "Son…"

"Father?" Light asked, brow furrowing. "Is something wrong?" He knew very well what was wrong.

Soichiro's hand dropped from his face, and he pushed himself off the door wearily. "Forgive me, Light, I'm simply feeling a bit under the weather."

_Great…time to play the role of the concerned son._ Light attempted to put on the mask, to slip back into his persona. But to his surprise, it was a bit difficult. He'd spent so long with his mask down, it had become difficult to fit it back into place. It felt like he'd changed in the time he'd had the mask off—not significantly, but just enough so that when he tried to put it back on, it didn't quite fit anymore. It was a startling feeling, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. "I'm sorry about this," he said, trying to hide his surprise. "I know this case has been hard on you, and I haven't exactly made it any easier by becoming a suspect."

Soichiro laughed humorlessly. "I'll admit, it's been quite taxing."

Light waited for a moment, but his father spoke no further. "So, what's wrong? Why did you call me out of the investigation room?"

"I just wanted to know how you were, and, ah…I didn't think it would be wise to ask in front of _him."_

In front of L. "I'm fine, father. Truly, I am."

"Are you just saying that because of the cameras?"

Ah, yes, the cameras. Light glanced up at the devices, having barely noticed their presence before. Over the past few weeks he'd grown quite used to being constantly monitored, and even now, the knowledge that L could very well be watching them didn't bother him much. "No, I'd be telling you that no matter where we were. I know you don't believe me, but L hasn't been that bad. We've actually become friends, if you can believe it."

Soichiro immediately went red, and Light realized he'd said too much too fast. "Friends?" Despite his visible anger, his voice was calm. "Light, surely you realize he's been manipulating you. He wants you to think he's your friend so he can keep you here, under suspicion, for as long as he wants."

Oh, he was _not_ going to take it well when he found out Light wanted to stay with L after the case ended. "With all due respect, you haven't been around him enough to get to know him." _That's it, draw him in with a few well-placed words._ "It's true that our initial time together wasn't exactly pleasant, but since we've been spending so much time around each other, we've actually gotten to know each other as more than just suspect and detective. He's kind at heart, really. You just met him under poor circumstances and got off on the wrong foot."

"Light, he's kept you locked in a cell for weeks! What you're experiencing is stockholm syndrome, nothing more, nothing less. You must not let yourself be drawn in by his _lies!"_

_Damage control, damage control!_ "Okay, okay…if you really want to know, I'll tell you." _He won't believe me if I just keep saying everything with L is perfectly fine. If I just give him something small, something negative, then he'll be inclined to believe that I'm telling the truth and not just playacting for the cameras. But what to tell him…? Ah, yes…that should do._ "It's true that things haven't been perfect, and you were right to think that L's interrogations can get a little…intense. I've gotten banged up a bit, but L has always made sure I'm okay, that I'm not hurt badly."

"The fact that he's laid a hand on you at _all—"_

Light raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm fine, honestly. What happened was just a little misunderstanding, and a mistake on L's part. He took care of it; I'm completely fine."

"What happened?"

He bit his lip, realizing that his idea may have backfired. _Oh well, at least I've shown him that I'm not just acting for the cameras._ "It wasn't a big deal, really—"

"Light."

Oh, he _really_ regretted bringing this up now. "A simple misunderstanding, really. L got a bit carried away during an interrogation and made a mistake."

"He hit you." It wasn't a question.

"I upset him, I did something stupid. He had every right to do what he did." Which wasn't true, but Soichiro didn't need to know that. Even as he thought it, the back of his head throbbed sympathetically, where the half-healed gash was hidden beneath a curtain of hair.

"Surely you realize I can't allow you to remain here under his care after learning such a thing!" Soichiro sputtered furiously.

_Damn, this backfired. How do I get out of this? Oh, that's right—lie._ "I hit him first!" Light blurted out. "I was struggling, just being difficult, really, and I punched L as hard as I could. He tried to subdue me peacefully, but I kept hitting him, and he eventually hit back in self-defense. My head struck the wall and I started bleeding. It was a complete accident, and L was horrified the instant it happened. He took me up to the infirmary and made sure it was bandaged up and taken care of, and that was the end of it. But that was the only time, I promise you. Other than that, he's been perfectly hospitable. I think he felt bad about what happened."

Soichiro seemed to deflate slightly, though he still didn't seem convinced. "I suppose that makes it a bit better, but I'm still not pleased with your present situation." He let out a deep sigh, pushing his glasses back into place from where they'd been skewed during his bought of yelling. "At least you're finally free of suspicion for the most part. You can come back home with me tonight."

There was no way L was going to let that happen, and Light didn't particularly disagree with him. But with Soichiro's words, Light realized that he'd made a serious mistake—he hadn't asked L how much he'd told the task force. He had no idea how much his father knew about his present situation, had no idea what knowledge he held regarding his guilt. He was making it sound like L had told the task force that Light was completely free of suspicion—but he knew that that couldn't be right. It was more likely that L had told his father that there was a one percent chance that he was Kira, or even a percentage even lower than that. That way, he'd have cause to detain him at task force headquarters and still let him work on the investigation team without suffering constant surveillance courtesy of a pair of handcuffs.

"Regardless of all of that, it's over now." Soichiro clasped a hand to Light's shoulder gruffly. "I'm proud of you for putting up with all this, Light. You've really shown your true colors."

_Oh, you have no idea._ He wondered what his father would say if he told him the true nature of his relationship with L. He would never actually tell him, of course—not unless he wanted to endure a relentless barrage of screaming. It was already bad enough trying to explain to his father that he was _friends_ with L, let alone…well, whatever they were becoming.

"Well, anyways…" Light cleared his throat awkwardly. "You were right to be suspicious about L's methods of interrogation, but it's okay now. He's been nothing but gentlemanly. And…I know I said it before, but we've become friends. I enjoy his company, and he's confessed to enjoying mine as well."

The glare was back, though it was slightly less scathing than before. "I still believe he's manipulating you, Light. I refuse to believe that he truly values your friendship, no matter what he's done to help you."

Soichiro: one. Light: zero.

"And Light, there's one other thing I'm concerned about."

Light winced. Here it came…

"Can you tell me why you were _holding hands_ with L when you walked in this morning? Or why you were late to work? Or why you've been whispering back and forth the entire day? Or why you chose to sit beside him of your own free will? Or why you're wearing his clothing? Or why you ran your hand across his shoulder when you were walking out?"

He winced again, hoping it wasn't noticeable. So his father had noticed all that, had he? Well, that wasn't good. "The holding hands thing was a misunderstanding, that's all. I was walking too fast and L pulled me back; he just grabbed my hand by accident instead of my arm. We were late to the investigation room because L finally let me sleep in a bed instead of a cot, and he decided to let me sleep in a little to make up for all the hours I've lost due to his interrogations. We were whispering back and forth because we were talking about the case. I sat beside him because we think in much the same way, and I thought it would be good to sit with him so that we could talk easily about our thoughts on the case without disturbing the rest of the team. I'm wearing his clothing I was moved out of my interrogation cell for good last night, but my clothing hasn't yet been moved to L's room, where I'm staying. I needed something to change into, so L let me borrow some of his clothing this morning. I ran my hand across his shoulder because…" Light trailed off, struggling to think of an excuse. "He…he had some lint on his shirt?" It sounded weak, and Light cursed himself for it.

"And you were sharing a room with him because…?"

"Ah, because…because he was still slightly suspicious, and he wanted to keep an eye on me overnight. It's a temporary thing."

"…Right." Soichiro pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, shaking his head. "Light, whatever it is that you think you're doing, I want you to stop it immediately."

"Father—!"

"No, Light. L isn't a good person, and I don't want you around him. If it's true that all suspicion has been lifted from you, then L should let you return home with me tonight. After that, I will have a conversation with L and assure that you're removed from the case, effective immediately. One day working in this accursed place is bad enough for someone as young as you. You won't be returning here after today."

_Sorry, father, but I think L is going to have a problem with that._ "Let's just…wait to hear what L has to say," Light suggested, not wanting to agree, but not wanting to completely deny what he was saying."

"I don't care what he says, you're not spending another minute in this place— _or_ with L—after today."

Light gave a brief dip of his head, placating his father just enough to make him drop the subject. "Look," he said uncomfortably, feeling a strong urge to seek L out and talk about the situation, "I should get back to the investigation room. _We_ should get back."

Soichiro sent him a long, searching look before giving in. "Very well. Let's go."

†††

When Light reentered the investigation room, the sight of L hunched over at his computer sent a powerful surge of relief flowing through him. Wearing his mask in front of his father had exhausted him, even if it was only for a few minutes, and he was aching to go back to the one person who didn't want him to hide his true personality. He cast a glance over his shoulder as Soichiro settled back down, then moved back to L. He lowered himself into the seat, letting out a tremendous sigh, and L's gaze was immediately on him.

"Light?" the detective asked, seeing the weariness in his companion's eyes. "Are you well?"

The teen sighed, murmuring, "It's fine, L. Just typical family strife." He cast another glance over his shoulder, making sure his father wasn't watching, before leaning in close. He whispered, "Just what did you tell the task force about me? My father seems convinced that he'll be taking me off the investigation and enrolling me in college after today."

L tensed immediately, head whipping around. " _What?"_ he snapped loudly, and immediately all eyes were on them.

"Quiet!" Light hissed, shooting yet another nervous glance over his shoulder. He felt his heart sink when he saw the disapproving glare Soichiro was aiming at L. "Don't draw attention to—"

It was too late. L shot to his feet, a mixture of fear and fury in his eyes. His fist came down on the table loudly, and the coffee cup resting beside L's monitor rattled on its coaster. The pyramid of coffee creamer containers fell with a clatter.

Light, startled by L's sudden display of emotion, raised his hands calmingly. "L," he started, but the detective cut him off with a hand fisted in his collar, pulling him slightly forward in his seat.

"You will _not—!"_

Light blanched. _Not good_. L appeared to be having one of his fits of anger, and if Soichiro saw what happened… Light swiftly raised a hand, wrapping his fingers around L's wrist and jerking the detective away from him. " _L,"_ he hissed, lowering his voice so the task force couldn't hear. "You're supposed to be making a good impression, remember? Don't give my father another reason to hate you!"

For a moment longer, there was nothing but anger in the detective's dark eyes. But then Light's words registered in his brain, and those dark orbs softened. He drew away from the teen slowly, leaning back in his seat. "…Forgive me," he said quietly. "You…you scared me, that's all. I don't want you to leave."

"Yes, and I'm not leaving," Light soothed. If the task force hadn't been staring, he would have reached out an arm to comfort the detective. But as things were, all he could do was offer him a reassuring smile. "We're in this together now, right? And the last time I checked, _together_ doesn't entail one of us leaving."

L seemed comforted. He visibly relaxed, jaw unclenching, and gave the teen a small smile. "Thank you, Light."

Light nodded. It seemed the danger had been eliminated, though he found himself even more determined to find a way to help L with that randomly explosive temper of his. "But with that being said, you should take care of the situation before it gets any worse. If you just let him go on thinking I'm going home tonight, then when tonight comes and I don't leave with him…"

"Yes, I understand. That would be best." The detective's eyes closed momentarily, and when they reopened, Light saw that the mask had returned. Cold and emotionless, L wheeled his chair around and got to his feet. His slump seemed even more exaggerated than usual as he cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Yagami, I believe there has been a misunderstanding."

If the tensing of his shoulders had anything to say about it, Soichiro knew just what kind of a fight he was about to engage in. "There has been no misunderstanding. You said that Light was cleared of suspicion, and as is such, there is no reason for him to remain here any longer. After work today, he will return home with—"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Yagami," L said in that cool monotone. "You appear to have heard me incorrectly. Yesterday when I spoke about Light joining the investigation team, I did not say that he was cleared of suspicion. I said that he was cleared of _almost_ all suspicion—meaning that I still suspect him to a certain degree."

_Clever,_ Light thought, the corners of his lips curving upwards. _Just as I thought—he's made sure that he still has cause to detain me._

L was still speaking. "With that being said, I still have every right to keep him here until I am completely certain that he is not Kira. As things stand I have allowed Light certain freedoms, seeing as I no longer have strong suspicions about him. However, this does not mean that he can leave this building. If he does, there is a small chance that he may resume his activities as Kira without my knowledge. I have no intention of letting a suspect go free."

Soichiro's jaw visibly clenched. "You can use the cameras to monitor him like you did before. If you're only slightly suspicious of him, then there is no reason to keep him here under lock and key."

"He is not under lock and key, Mr. Yagami. Light is free to go wherever he likes within the building at any time, and is under no obligation to stay with me. His decision to be here now is of his own free will, and if he wished, he could leave now and choose not to return."

He was right. But Soichiro was stubborn to a fault, and was determined to take his son home. "This is unreasonable, L!"

"There is nothing unreasonable about it. I still harbor suspicions toward Light, so he must remain here. However, since my suspicions are so low, I have allowed him free reign of the building. It is entirely fair, and Light has no complaints."

The entire task force turned their gaze on Light. _Great, L, way to make me have to publicly disagree with my dad._ He offered the task force a sheepish shrug, saying, "I understand your concerns, father, but as I told you, I have no problems with the current arrangement. Contrary to what you seem to believe, everything L has done has been entirely justified. And now that he harbors very little suspicion towards me, I will never _have_ to be in his presence. I can go wherever I like, and he won't follow. Doesn't that make you happy? It's not ideal for you, I understand, but this is as good as things can possibly be for now." He knew that his father didn't want him to be around L. He was already suspicious of a budding relationship, and he wanted to nip it in the bud before it had a chance to grow out of control. If Light told him this, appealed to the fact that he could go anywhere in the building he wanted to be away from L, he was sure to calm down.

"But Light—!" he protested.

"Father, please. This is how things have to be for now."

Soichiro's glare was nothing short of murderous. "One condition, then."

"Father—"

"Oh, you mean other than the other conditions you've already laid out?" L muttered under his breath.

Light shot him a harsh look, and the detective looked away irritably. "What is it?" he asked Soichiro, making an effort to keep himself from looking at L.

"You are to stay in your own room during the nights."

Light immediately wished he hadn't mentioned the fact that he'd shared a room with L the previous night. "Come on," he protested, "is that really—?"

"Deal."

Light whipped around to stare at L, jaw practically on the ground. "What?"

The detective didn't look at him. "If you agree to drop this silly argument, then I promise that Light will be given his own room, and that he will stay there every night until the case is over and done with. Does this satisfy you?"

For a moment, Soichiro did nothing but glare. But then he seemed to deflate just slightly, and he gave a brief nod of his head. "Yes, thank you."

"Then let us get back to work." L turned and settled back into his seat, wheeling his chair back around to face the monitor.

Light waited until the flabbergasted task force had gone back to work and his father was no longer paying attention to speak with L once more. "L," he hissed quietly, "what the hell? I thought we were going to stay togethe—"

The detective caught him off guard by smirking suddenly, one hand rising slightly. He flicked his wrist, and Light's gaze was drawn to his hand—particularly his fingers, two of which were crossed at the knuckle.

Light's hand immediately flew to his mouth to stifle a laugh. "Are we in third grade again, L?" he snorted.

"It matters not what grade we're in, Light. What matters is that I crossed my fingers, and therefore, my promise is invalid."

"You're such a child."

"And yet you stay here with me anyways." That smirk widened slightly. "Now, how do you explain that?"

Light rolled his eyes. "Get back to work, genius."

†††

_Hmm…fascinating._ Beyond Birthday crouched on the balcony of the building closest to the task force headquarters, binoculars in hand. He hadn't had the chance to install listening devices in the building yet, but he could see exactly what was going on through the window, which L had foolishly had installed in exactly the right place for someone to peek through should they be standing on the opposite balcony—i.e. exactly where Beyond was waiting. He'd been observing the task force for several days now, and had done his best to catch glimpses of L. Unfortunately, the detective always seemed to be out of sight in the many, many rooms in the building which either had covered windows or no windows at all. In fact, the detective just seemed to disappear most of the time. Beyond had hypothesized that L was interrogating his Kira suspect during the time he spent out of the investigation room—but now he had proof.

Beyond slowly lowered the binoculars, digesting what he'd just seen. It appeared that the task force and L didn't exactly get along. What was even more interesting was that the Kira suspect appeared to have taken L's side in the debate. Against his own father, no less.

He sighed sadly. "Looks like you've done it again, L." He rose from his crouch, backing up until his back hit the door leading back inside from the balcony. Just through the door was the hotel room he'd rented, just so he'd be able to spy on the actions of the task force. So long as he didn't have any listening devices in the building it was difficult to tell what was actually going on, but he could still figure a few things out just from how the task force acted. And one of those things that he'd learned was that L had wound the Kira suspect around his little finger.

_Poor kid,_ he thought, remembering the absolutely adoring looks he'd shot L throughout the day. He didn't even think the suspect knew he was doing it. _He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, getting involved with someone like L._

He'd seen it before. Hell, he'd _felt_ it before. There was this mysterious, enthralling air about L that drew people in, made them want to be around him. He'd fallen victim to it himself, as had many, many others back at the orphanage. Beyond himself had been completely obsessed with the world's greatest detective before…well, before the _accident,_ as L would call it. Hah. Accident? Beyond knew better. People didn't just _die._

He frowned. Well, maybe people did just die—a lot, actually—but fourteen-year-old boys didn't just keel over due to blood loss without a cause. People like A were _stronger_ than that.

Beyond shook his head, clearing the unpleasant thoughts. What had happened to A didn't matter right now, he knew. What mattered was that L had enticed yet another innocent person (well, maybe not completely innocent, but still…), leading them into his web and entangling them beyond escape. It appeared that the Kira suspect was already past the point of no return.

Or maybe not.

Maybe Beyond could stop the impending train wreck before the cars were even set upon the tracks. If he could tear up the rails, destroy the engine running the whole mess straight towards oblivion, then maybe…

Beyond's gaze was drawn back to the lit windows of the investigation headquarters, where he knew the suspect was working. _I can save you,_ he thought. _I can break Lawli's web, cut you free. The problem is getting you to understand that you're ensnared—because if you don't realize what's happening, if you don't struggle, then you're as good as dead. Lawli will sink his teeth into you, and he'll never let go._ The murderer felt his hands twitching, and he steadied them by pressing them to his chest, balling them in fists over his heart. _He'll never let go._ Then he laughed. Never let go? No, it was far worse than that. L…he would—

"He'll tear you apart," he whispered.

_Just like A._

Far away, the lights in the investigation room were dimming. They were dimming, flickering out, giving way to impenetrable darkness—and Beyond watched that darkness, eyes clouded with visions of the past. He knew. He knew that L would tear this puppet apart just like all the others, cast his ruined toy aside once he was done with him. It would happen again. No matter how hard Beyond tried, it would always happen again. This time, though…

This time was different. There was too much at stake for him to mess up this time. If he failed, and L— _Kira_ —destroyed all in his path, then the matter of revenge for what had happened to A would be the least of his worries. No…he'd be more concerned with keeping L from destroying _everything._

So, then, he had to stop L. And if he wanted to do that, then his first step would be getting the Kira suspect safely away from him. Having his suspect taken away from him would unbalance the detective, throw him off—hopefully enough to get rid of him for good. And what was more, there was the suspect himself to think about. He certainly wasn't _innocent_ in all this, seeing as he'd killed people too, but letting him die wasn't exactly on his to-do list. He was one of L's toys, after all—and he'd sworn after A's death that he would _always_ come to the rescue of the people L toyed with.

He had a course of action, then. Take out L, save his puppet. He smirked at the thought of it, and his teeth shone in the moonlight.

_Sounds like a plan._


	25. The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things about this chapter:  
> First off, the first lemon takes place in this chapter. I'm not one to place much weight in sexual content, so feel free to skip it without fear of missing any vital information. You have been warned.  
> Second, the final scene of this chapter probably isn't going to make any sense. But never fear, it will all be explained at the beginning of the next chapter.  
> Third, I absolutely LOVE the final scene of this chapter. I love the plan, love how it turned out, and I hope all of you like it as much as I do once everything has been explained!

* * *

At eight o'clock that night, the task force was told to depart early for a much needed break. Light, remaining glued to his seat, watched as the members of the task force obeyed, slowly filing out. Soichiro was the last to leave, bidding his son good night before sweeping out of the room after all the others.

Once they were all gone, Light turned to face his companion, who was still staring at his monitor. "L?" he asked. "Is there a reason you told the task force to go home early?"

L remained still for a long moment. Then he turned his head, eyes glittering, and said, "Why yes, Light. As it so happens, I just received a message from the head of my personal police force."

Light frowned, opening his mouth to ask what was so important that it necessitated sending the task force home—but L cut him off before he had the chance to get out the first syllable.

"Misa's Death Note has been located."

He was rendered speechless for an embarrassing length of time. Then, "Really? Where is it?"

L leaned in close, lips curving upwards triumphantly. One of his hands crept out slowly, subtly, and found its way to Light's knee, using it as a prop to lean in even closer. "It's been sent up to our room. Care to join me?"

There was a dark undercurrent in L's voice, one that made Light shudder. "Um, y-yeah…" he stuttered nervously, pretending not to notice as L's grip tightened on his knee. "Let's go take a look."

L was immediately on his feet, taking Light by the hand and leading him towards the elevator. As the doors closed behind them, he proclaimed, "I admit, I'm quite thrilled to see just what Misa's been up to in that notebook of hers."

"Agreed." Light watched as L pressed the button that would take them to their room. "We can eliminate the rest of the names on that list you've been keeping based on the names written in her notebook, and if there are any left remaining, we'll know that the person who stole my notebook is killing people too. With that information, we'll surely be able to track them down."

"Or, alternatively, we'll find out they're not killing at all, and be left with no leads." Even as he said it, L didn't look troubled. The news of the retrieval of Misa's notebook seemed to have put him in an impossibly good mood.

Light, not as carefree as L seemed at the moment, winced at the thought of not having any information on the thief. "Let's deal with that when it happens. For now, we can at least find a bit of comfort in the fact that we have one of the missing notebooks. And now we should be able to see Rem, assuming she's hanging around us and not around Misa."

"Which we know she is not," L reminded him. "If Rem was hanging around us, she would have killed me the instant she heard me mention anything about killing Misa. That has not happened, so we can assume she has not left Amane's side. And seeing as I've covered my face during interrogation sessions, I think it's safe to assume that she doesn't yet know my name."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Light and L stepped out into the corridor and began walking down the hall towards their room. Changing the subject, Light joked, "You sure made a good impression on my father today."

"It isn't my fault he twisted my words out of proportion," the detective pouted. "I swear, Light, I don't see how you can possibly be related to that man."

He supposed that he should have been offended, but all he felt was a sense of understanding. "That's just how family is, L," he said. "If your parents were still around you'd understand."

There was a moment of silence as L turned his gaze to the ground, expression unreadable.

Light immediately felt guilty. _Great. Very tactful, Light. Very tactful._ "I, um…" Light trailed off uncertainly. "I'm sorry, L, I didn't mean to offend you. I wasn't thinking."

The detective's expression remained neutral. He gave a brief shrug. "There's no need to apologize. I know what I am."

Light turned his head to the side, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Looks like we've made it." L opened the door to their bedroom and ushered Light inside. The teen walked further into the room, eyes searching for the thin black notebook that belonged to Misa Amane. And then he saw it—there, lying on the bed in plain sight, appearing innocuous, innocent. No one would ever know how deadly the little book was, looking at it like this.

L's eyes lit up the instant he saw the notebook. He strode forward, grabbing it and opening it up to the first page. Light closed the door behind them as L began riffling through the pages. The detective, eyes glued to the notebook, fell onto the bed and pushed himself back against the pillows. "This is incredible," he murmured, turning page after page. "They're all here. These are the names, Light! The names on the list are here!"

He was childishly excited, and Light couldn't hold back a grin. Without waiting for an invitation, he climbed onto the bed beside L and moved to sit beside him, leaning heavily on the pillows as he skimmed his eyes over the words written in the notebook in large, bubbly kanji. He hummed, impressed with the sheer number of them. "Wow, Misa's really been busy, hasn't she?" He reached out a finger, pressing it to one of the names on the notebook thoughtfully.

"Indeed she has." L flipped to the last page that had been written on. "Look at this," he murmured, running a finger down a list of dates, each one written beside a name. "She's set it up so that criminals will continue to die, just as we thought."

Light swiftly found the last name that had been written, checking the date. He nearly laughed when he saw that the date was only two days from the present time. "Two days!" he exclaimed, relieved. "That's good! This way we don't have to wait a long time before framing her. Criminals should stop dying entirely in two days, seeing as the pre-planned deaths I orchestrated have already run out, and after that we should be in the clear—assuming, as we've said, that the thief doesn't start killing."

L gave an approving nod. "That's all there is, though," he said, sounding somewhat disappointed. "I almost expected there to be another part to the story."

"There isn't. My part is the end of it for us both, I'm afraid."

L eyed him through a curtain of dark hair. "I…I never asked you. Light, what happens to you in the story?"

"Isn't it obvious?" His heart twisted in his chest just thinking about it, the utter viciousness of his death. "I die."

Judging by L's expression, it was the answer he'd been expecting. That didn't mean he looked happy about it, however. Quite the contrary. "How?"

Light really didn't think he wanted to know. But still, he had the right to find out. He cleared his throat awkwardly, saying, "I, ah…bleed out. Someone shoots me. Multiple times. Although I believe Ryuk kills me just before I actually die."

L's fists clenched, nails biting into the notebook. "Who shoots you?" he demanded.

"It doesn't say. It was the only part of the story that wasn't even remotely detailed."

The detective's eyes were completely hidden now, veiled behind his hair.

_You would have killed them,_ Light realized, staring at his companion. _You would have killed them here and now, using Misa's Death Note. Just for putting an end to my evil, you would have taken their life._ He felt something, then—a flicker of doubt, perhaps? But it was gone so fast he couldn't be sure.

"Well," L said, dropping the subject with visible effort, "I think we have more than enough information here, don't you?"

"Definitely. Do you want to go work on the list of known victims? We might be able to start working on the identity of the thief."

"Hmm…" L leaned over, placing the notebook on the bedside table. "That would probably be best, yes. However…" The detective trailed off slowly, rolling onto his side to face Light. "I _did_ promise your father you'd be getting your own room. Do you want to help me set it up?"

Catching the playful gleam in L's eye, Light laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. "Bastard."

"And you care for me anyways." L leaned further over, and before Light knew what was happening, the detective had a vice-like grip around his wrists, pinning them above his head. In one smooth movement, L shifted himself on top of Light, lowering himself so that nearly the entire length of his body was pressed against the entrapped teen. "So…" he purred, only smirking wider when Light squirmed beneath him. "We have many, _many_ hours to pass before that criminal arrives and attacks Misa. Is there anything you wanted to do with that time _besides_ gluing your nose to a computer screen and working on our list of victims?"

" _You're_ asking _me_ to stop working in favor of doing something fun?" Light gasped in mock surprise, and if his hands had been free, he would have brought one up to cover his mouth in a show of surprise.

The detective rolled his eyes, bringing his lips to the juncture between Light's neck and shoulder. The kiss he placed there was light and unassuming—or at least it was for a few moments, until L closed his teeth firmly, just hard enough to draw a gasp of pain without drawing blood.

"L…" Light groaned, gasping again when the detective's tongue laved over the sore area apologetically. "We can't—mph!" He was cut off by a pair of warm lips jammed harshly against his, forcing his head back against the pillows. One hand found its way just beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips drawing tiny circles on the flesh just above his waist. Light couldn't hold back a tiny moan as nails scratched lightly at his skin, then a soft cry as L took his nails to his waist in earnest, tearing a series of raised lines across the skin. And L, the demon, wasted no time in slipping his tongue into the teen's mouth as he cried out in pain. He raised his hands involuntarily as L's grip loosened, fingers twisting into the loose fabric of the detective's shirt—though he couldn't tell if he was trying to push him away or pull him closer. Judging by L's hum of approval, he guessed that he'd tugged him closer.

L pulled away, seemingly out of breath, though he seemed incredibly eager to maintain the full-body contact he'd initiated. "You never answered my question," he whispered in a low tone, nails still scraping gently across the skin above his waist. "Is there something you're interested in doing for the next couple of hours?" He grew more daring, his hand inching up beneath Light's shirt and brushing up the planes of his chest. The other hand dipped downwards to joint the first, fingers plucking at the hem of his shirt and drawing it upwards slowly.

"I just want to work on the case," the teen protested weakly, keening a moment later as L's palm slid across his flesh.

"Hmm…" L brought his lips to Light's neck momentarily, sucking harshly. Teeth grazed reddening skin, though nowhere near as hard as the first time, before the detective drew back just enough to murmur, "Are you sure about that, Light? Because if you ask me…" He drew his nails down Light's sides, nipping at his collarbone simultaneously. The teen groaned in a mix of pain and pleasure, realizing that L seemed to harbor a bit of sadism, and wondering vaguely if he harbored just a bit of masochism to match. "…You seem quite eager to _play_."

_We shouldn't be doing this right now,_ Light thought, though all it took to chase the thought from his mind was a well-placed nip at the side of his neck. _We…we need to be working on finding the notebook thief, or framing Misa, or…_ L's lips returned to his, tongue pressing into his mouth and tangling with his. _Mmm…feels good…_

"That's it," L purred, peppering kisses over his cheeks, lips, chin, neck, and everywhere else he could reach. "Stop thinking and just _feel."_

Light's logical mind dulled. He'd never asked if L had taken other lovers, but the fact L was incredibly skilled at what he was doing spoke volumes about the answer. The way the detective's lips moved against his, the way his hands gripped his hips so forcefully, the way his teeth bruised the skin without breaking it—it all spoke of vast experience. It was puzzling, really, for one so antisocial and withdrawn—but Light was far too preoccupied to worry about such things at the current moment. All he could think about was L.

Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his head, the words _too soon_ echoed ominously. Fortunately, L was there to eliminate such doubts.

"Lift your arms," he murmured, and in one swift motion he yanked Light's shirt over his head. Once the garment was discarded, L leaned back and took a moment to simply stare at the teen splayed beneath him. His hands came up, brushing gently across the contours of his chest reverently, and he rasped out, "Beautiful…"

The pause in events gave Light time to voice his concerns. "L," he breathed, gasping for breath. "Don't you think this is a bit…well, quick? You just got me out of that cell yesterday, and—"

L shushed him with a brief kiss. "Surely you know we are above such things, Light. We're _geniuses—_ and if minds as brilliant as ours have decided that we're ready, then I'm not inclined to disagree."

He had a point—but Light didn't exactly trust his own mind to make the best decisions at the moment, especially not with L brushing a hand up and down his side in such a slow, teasing manner. "Still, I think it might be a bit too fast if we just—"

L's eyes narrowed slightly, but it only lasted a moment before his expression melted into one of gentle amusement. "You're scared."

"What?" the teen gasped. "I'm not scared!"

"Mhmm." L shook his head, lips curved into a smile. "I'll make you a deal, Light." His hands hadn't stopped their movements at his sides, and now they drifted slightly lower, coming to rest on his hips. "Give me a chance. Give me a few minutes without protesting what I do, and after that, if you still want to stop, I won't complain."

Again, it was difficult to tell if he was making a decision fueled by logic or a decision fueled by lust. He should really say no. He should give himself some time to cool down, some time to cement his relationship with L before he took the next step. _That's it, just open your mouth and tell him no. Say you want to stop and leave it at that. Say that you—_

"Yes."

_Damn it._

L smirked. "Good choice."

L's lips were on his a heartbeat later, tongue tangling with his fiercely. This was okay, this was something he was used to—but a moment later he felt something he _wasn't_ used to, and he couldn't help but let out a tiny moan against L's mouth. _Did he just…?_ He felt it again, and this time the noise he made was louder, more unrestrained. _Yep, he did._ And then he did it _again,_ the bastard, pinching and kneading at his nipples, sending pleasurable spikes of pain jolting through him.

"L…" he moaned, arching into his touch. "Please…"

He felt rather than saw the detective's answering grin. Rather than offering a verbal response, L snaked a hand beneath his shoulders and moved his mouth lower, placing a kiss on his neck, then his shoulder, then his clavicle, until he reached what he was after. Those lips, hot and just slightly chapped, closed around his already sore nipple, the arm beneath his shoulders pulling him closer to that tantalizing mouth. Teeth dug in around the bud, a soothing tongue following shortly after to take away the pain. Light arms rose and hooked around L's neck, holding him in place in a silent plea for more.

He obliged. As Light squirmed, flickers of heat starting to build within him, L's free hand moved lower. His spindly fingers brushed past his stomach and waist, and soon the detective had a firm grip on the button that held his pants closed. A flick of his fingers had the button undone, and the zipper followed soon after. Light felt something in the core of his being tense at the intimate touch, and he almost raised his voice and asked L to stop—but that was when the detective gave a particularly hard nip, and he found himself unable to articulate anything except for a low whimper. L gave a chuckle in response. He released Light's upper body back to the pillows, using his now freed hands to take hold of the teen's pants and pull them down slowly. He was giving him a chance to protest, Light realized—and still he did nothing. Did he want this? He supposed that he must, if he hadn't acted out to stop it yet.

Still, though—if this was going to happen, Light wouldn't let himself be the only one subjected to the embarrassment that was being stripped down by another person. "L," he rasped, "your shirt."

The detective gave a brief pause, looking momentarily confused. Then he seemed to realize what Light was asking, and he laughed, "Eager, aren't we?" His hands dropped to the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head and discarding it without a second thought. His fingers plucked at his own pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them off. His state of dress now mirrored Light's, and it made the teen feel at least a little better about what came next.

L ran his fingers along the hem of Light's boxers, thumb dipping just below. He looked up, eyes questioning.

Light felt as if his heart was about to leap out of his throat. He swallowed thickly, trying to find words that wouldn't come to mind. "Ah…" Hesitation dripped from his voice.

Spindly fingers pulled his boxers just an inch lower. "Light, I'm going to take these off."

_Oh god, this is really happening. I hope he can't hear my heart; it's beating out of my chest! This is so embarrassing…_ Despite the embarrassment, Light managed to squeak out a tiny noise, which L seemed to take as agreement.

His eyes softened considerably. "Okay. Remember, if you want to stop, just tell me." He gave it another moment to make sure Light wasn't going to protest. Then he pulled down, boxers coming away and vanishing as L chucked them over the side of the bed. Light felt himself revealed to the cool air of the bedroom in a moment's notice, and his breath caught in his throat. He was hard already, practically dripping as a result of L's antics. That knot in his stomach had only grown stronger, and it was beginning to overwhelm him with a feeling he could only describe as carnal lust.

L seemed to share the feeling that was currently pumping through him. His eyes were wide, almost wondrous, as he admired the body of his companion. "Light," he groaned, practically drooling over him. "You have _no_ idea what you're doing to me right now."

The teen immediately looked away, blushing. "Don't stare," he begged. The final scraps of his pride were being torn away under his companion's gaze, and he couldn't stand it. He knew exactly what role he'd be playing if they took this further, and he wasn't sure if he was prepared for such a thing.

"Impossible. You're too beautiful to look away from." The grin on L's face was demonic, lecherous, _sadistic_. He brought his hand down, brushing the skin around Light's arousal in slow, short strokes. The action was purely meant to distract him, render him unable to think—and it worked shockingly well. How could he be expected to think clearly when L was touching him like that? It was impossible. "Relax," the detective urged soothingly. "You, of all people, have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just don't think…" The teen trailed off with a moan as L took the next step, wrapping his hand firmly around his arousal and squeezing lightly. "I don't think—" Another light squeeze, this one accompanied by the brush of a thumb across the head, banished any such complaint from his mind.

"Good, good…" L began to move his hand slowly, pumping up and down in an almost teasing manner. "Stop thinking."

And with the low growl echoing in his ears, Light could do nothing but submit. His fingers twisted in the sheets beside him, balling into fists as L gave a tiny twist of his wrist, beginning to move slightly faster now. Teeth closed gently on his shoulder, choosing a place and drawing deeply as that hand pumped at a swifter pace, grip tightening just enough to make Light gasp. Each movement L made just seemed to grow more and more intense, each tiny motion taking Light to greater and greater heights. His head struck the pillows rather harshly, a moan tearing itself from his lips as L continued to increase the pace. A pool of heat was growing within him, an unbearable tension beginning to grip his entire body. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, and his breath came in short pants as L pleasured him.

"Still want to stop?" L teased playfully

Light was far too dazed to give a coherent response. He felt his muscles tensing as one, felt himself twisting and turning feverishly against the sheets, felt himself bend one leg at the knee in order to gain a bit of leverage and push his hips up into L's hand.

"Easy, now," the detective urged, his free hand snapping down to press his hips into the mattress. His message was clear—that _he_ was the one in control, that _he_ would be the one to decide how much to give. "You're so sensitive. I wonder what would happen if I…?"

That warm, tight tunnel L was creating with his hand loosened suddenly, and was removed a moment later. Light shook his head dimly at the sudden loss of contact, a garbled moan his only way of voicing his displeasure. His lips parted, the beginnings of a question forming on the tip of his tongue, but L's next actions swiftly took away any possibility of speech.

L's hands closed on his hips firmly, fingers digging into the pale flesh until Light was sure it would bruise. Then that mouth, as painfully arousing as before, attached itself to his neck briefly before dipping downward. His tongue trailed across Light's sweaty skin, tracing a train from his collarbone to his chest, then dipping even lower. The teen couldn't hold back a cry as L turned his attention to his stomach just briefly, the feeling of his tongue trailing lightly across his skin nearly unbearable. But even that was nothing compared when to L moved even lower. The detective's hair fell over his eyes as he hesitated, mouth hovering over Light's cock. It occurred to Light dimly that L might be hesitating because he'd never done such a thing before, because he might not actually _want_ to do such a thing—and even though a part of him, the more logical part that had been shoved beneath the surface, told him that he should tell L that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, his mind was too clouded to get anything out than a low, "L, please…"

His words seemed to affect L tremendously. For the first time it was _L_ letting out a tiny groan, and though it was subtle, Light caught the longing on his face as one hand twitched in a suppressed attempt to touch himself. He seemed to be drawing to the end of his patience. But still, that didn't stop him from leaning back down to continue what he'd started.

The first thing Light felt was L's tongue darting out to taste the tip of his cock, and even that threatened to overwhelm him. The detective didn't wait for him to adjust to the feeling, however. Instead he pushed his head down further, let his lips part further until he'd taken in just the head. He sucked deeply, purposefully teasing the teen by not taking him any further, and dug his tongue into the slit harshly. But L's impatience got the best of him, and it didn't take long for him to begin sinking his head down, the steady suction of his mouth drawing Light in enticingly. It was intense, dangerously so, and Light had to fight with everything he had to keep himself from releasing then and there.

The detective's grip tightened on Light's hips as he attempted to push upwards, throwing his head back and exposing his neck without thinking. A chorus of tiny groans were spilling from his throat as the pleasure climbed higher and higher, and he knew that if L didn't pull back soon, he wouldn't be able to hold back any longer. He made to warn L, who was already in the midst of bobbing his head, and lost his voice the instant he tried to get out the first syllable. It didn't help when L groaned around him, the vibrations sending him to a new high as the detective sucked languidly.

"L," Light sputtered, finally fighting through the blinding pleasure enough to speak. "L, I can't—!"

L gave a low hum in response, taking him back to the hilt—and this time, he didn't draw back. One last draw was all it took to send the teen entirely over the edge. His lower body tensed unbearably as his hands flew to the back of L's head in a fit of passion, holding his head down with shaking fingers. He had no doubt that L could have broken away if he really wanted to. But instead, the detective complied, milking Light for all he had with those impossibly tight lips, throat working fiercely to satisfy him.

When it was over, Light's cock shrinking back to its normal size, L drew back with a pop. A devious smirk stretched across his face, and the sight of a bit of cloudy liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth made Light blush furiously. "That was fast," the detective commented teasingly. "You must have been really close when I started."

"S-shut up!" Light stuttered nervously, cheeks flushed. "I've never…!" He trailed off dazedly as L moved up, arms caging him in. The teen felt a spark of trepidation as he saw the lecherous look in L's eyes, felt his obvious arousal prodding at his leg through the thin material of his pants. L…did he want more? Light's heart jumped in his chest as he pondered just what _more_ would mean—and even through a tremendous wave of fear assaulted him at the thought of the possibility of such a thing, he felt a flicker of anticipation. "L?" he asked quietly.

The detective's lips parted slightly, but he didn't speak. His hips pushed forward, movement so subtle that Light wasn't sure if it had been a conscious decision or not.

"L?" Light rasped again. "Do you want—?"

"Only…if you want it." The strain the words caused him was visible. L was desperate, struggling hard to keep himself from losing control.

Light's mouth felt dry. He licked his lips nervously. Then, slowly, well aware of the weight of his decision, he reached one hand down and tugged at L's pants lightly. It was a silent message, but one L seemed to understand perfectly. His eyes went wide with something between surprise and excitement, and the next moment he was leaning back, undoing his pants and pulling them off hastily. As he moved, Light took it upon himself to roll slightly onto his side in order to reach the bedside table. It was the one he normally used, so he knew that there was a bottle of unscented hand lotion tucked away in the first drawer. He had to strain to reach it, and by the time he'd managed it, L was completely naked. Light tried to maintain his decency, he truly did—but his eyes still gravitated downward, and when he did, he couldn't stop himself from gulping nervously. L wasn't much larger than him, but the thought of _that_ fitting _inside_ of him was positively terrifying. But still, this was something he hadto do. He had to do this for L. He _wanted_ to do this for L.

"Here," Light murmured, handing L the bottle. "Hurry up before I change my mind."

The bottle was taken from him immediately, the cap popped open, the lotion spread onto a few of L's fingers. The next few moments were swift. L leaned forward, coaxing Light's legs up over his shoulders, and in a matter of moments his fingers were prodding at the teen's entrance. "Light," he breathed out, "are you sure? Once I start, I won't be able to stop."

The teen knew that his face must have been beet red with embarrassment. "Just…get on with it, already."

"If that's what you want, then…" He trailed off with a smirk, and a moment later Light felt a single finger pushing at him, easing him apart, soothing over his inner walls. He hummed lightly, not quite sure how it felt. It didn't hurt, it just felt a bit uncomfortable. After realizing his orientation back in middle school, he'd tried something like this out a few times, but he'd never been able to make it feel good. This didn't seem to be much of an exception.

"Give it a minute," L murmured, reading the discomfort on his face. "I know what to do." His finger pressed deeper inside until it had slid as far in as it could, before drawing out slightly and pushing back in. He continued the tiny motions, each movement becoming swifter and swifter—and after a few moments, when he deemed Light ready, L began to shift his finger at different angles, seemingly searching for something. Light wasn't a fool; he knew what he was looking for. But he'd never been able to do it himself, so he didn't think—

A gasp tore itself from his lips suddenly as his mind went blank. _O-oh god, is that…?_

L chuckled, grinding his finger back into the same place and receiving the same response. "There it is," he purred, repeating the same action again and again. "Now we can have some _real_ fun."

Light barely had the chance to gasp before L slid in another finger to join the first. A tiny prickle of pain laced up his spine, but L was ready for it. All it took was a single thrust of those fingers in the exact right place to ease away all the pain. He was responding so well, taking the intrusion with such grace…and so it was barely a minute later that L lost his patience and inserted a third finger, ignoring Light's minute gasp of pain. He began to pump his fingers faster, without waiting for Light to adjust to the new sensation.

"That's it," he whispered, watching as the teen slowly began to come undone beneath him. "Don't hold back, Light."

The sound of his name flowing smoothly over L's lips was enough to spark a new wave of pleasure, and he felt himself beginning to harden again. _Don't hold back, eh? Then, in that case…_ Light raised a hand shakily, gripping the wrist of the hand L was working him with. The detective paused for a moment, uncertain.

"Light?"

The teen's teeth closed on his lower lip hesitantly. "I…I want…"

L's eyes widened in understanding. He gave a brief nod before removing all three fingers, expression flickering with amusement as he heard the lingering groan that his actions drew from the teen splayed beneath him. Light could barely restrain a cry of anticipation as L reached for the bottle of lotion, which had fallen to the bed beside them, popping the cap off and drizzling a liberal amount onto his hand before applying it to his cock. It took only a moment after that for L to move forward, hands gripping Light's waist meaningfully. "How do you want it?" he asked in a low tone, voice thick with arousal. "Like this, or…?" He gave a light tug on Light's waist, hinting at turning him over. "This?"

"Don't care," Light panted, overridden by pleasure and aching for more. "Just do it!"

"Fine then. We'll do this my way."

Light yelped as he was suddenly flipped, thrown around so that he landed on his stomach. L pulled his hips up into the air, and a heartbeat later Light felt something much larger than three fingers prodding at his entrance.

"I must warn you," L hummed, pressing forward lightly, "I'm at my limit. I won't be gentle with you."

The teen barely registered his words. He felt as if he were burning up, a fresh wave of heat permeating his trembling body. He managed a low groan of affirmation when he felt L pause, whimpering, "L, just…" _Just do it, please! I can't take this any longer…_

"…As you wish."

L's fingertips bit into his hips harshly, and the next moment he was pushing in. Light's lips parted instinctually, mouth hanging open as the sensation of L filling him coursed through his body like a bolt of lightning. It hurt, yes—but it was a mere dull burn, serving more to heighten the pleasure than to dull it. And sure enough, by the time L worked his way in to the hilt, Light's entire body was alight with pleasure. Despite L warning him that he wouldn't be gentle, Light could feel gentleness in every movement the other male made. Even though his fingers were harsh and bruising at his hips, the emotion behind the touch was nothing short of reverent. Even though his teeth were once again buried in his neck, they bit down with soothing intent.

"Are you okay?" L rasped quietly, though his voice was shaking in obvious strain with his efforts to keep from moving. "It doesn't hurt too badly?"

Light didn't think he could answer coherently if he wanted to. When he tried, all that escaped him was a soft whimper. And so instead, he arched into L's touch, grinding his hips back with what little strength he had left. It burned, yes—but it only made him want more.

L chuckled lowly in his ear, purring out, "I'll take that as a yes. And if it doesn't hurt too badly…" His grip tightened even further as he pulled slightly out, pushing back in a moment later. He was testing him, Light realized. Testing whether or not he was ready.

"L…" Light moaned, barely able to form the syllable. "Please…"

There was a low rumble in the detective's chest as he repeated his previous action, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. Then he repeated it again, forehead dropping to rest on Light's back as he became used to the sensation. "Light…" he groaned. "You feel incredible…"

The teen moaned in response, blood spiking with heat with every shallow thrust. He nearly cried out as the detective began to pick up the pace, movements growing deeper and more forceful. He had yet to hit that pleasurable spot again, but Light was grateful for it. He didn't want to release too quickly this time.

L didn't seem to share his reservations. He'd been worked into a frenzy, and he appeared eager to reach his end. It was with that mentality that his thrusts grew harsher, his arms constricted around Light with frightening abandon. It didn't take long to build up a steady rhythm—and then, just as Light thought he'd gotten to a place where he could endure the blinding pleasure, L struck that place deep within him and sent him into a pleasurable haze.

Light opened his mouth to say something, _anything,_ to beg L to do that again. But his mind seemed to have stopped functioning entirely, and all that got out was a loud choking sound.

The detective chuckled breathlessly, rhythm never faltering. "Looks like I found it again," he breathed airily, snapping his hips forward with startling accuracy and hurling Light straight into the depths of insanity. "Now, then…"

That was it. He was going to go insane, he knew it. His blood was practically boiling now, and that coil in his stomach was tightening painfully. He wanted to hold back, wanted to drag this out—but the situation was swiftly being taken from his control. Everything—everything from the feel of L moving inside him, to the way the heated flesh of his forehead rested against his back, to the vulgar, wet sounds that were emanating from between them—was pushing Light closer and closer to the edge. All it would take would be a tiny push, and—

"Do you want it?" L purred.

The teen almost couldn't understand the words. "Want…?"

The detective's fingertips trailed close to Light's arousal, and the teen understood the question with startling clarity.

L smirked. "I'll give it to you if you beg."

_Beg?_ A flicker of alarm shot through Light, quickly soothed away by a tidal wave of arousal. This was dangerous—in this state, he'd do anything L wanted without question.

"Go on," L urged in a low tone, voice thick with lust. His rhythm faltered slightly, and Light knew he was beginning to reach his end.

"L…" Light managed. "I—ah!" A chorus of whimpers broke his words before they had the chance to escape him. "I…I want…"

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Please…please, I need you to—" He broke off with a long, drawn out moan as L purposefully slowed his pace, dragging in and out of him at a painfully slow pace. It must have driven L insane, pulling such a stunt when he was so close to his release. But just to see Light squirm, it seemed he was willing to do anything. "L!"

The detective ran a finger up Light's cock teasingly. "Yes?"

"Just…just finish it!"

Light felt a low rumble in L's chest. Then, "If that's what you want."

The teen let out a relieved sigh. Then he yelped as L, without any warning, suddenly pulled out. His lips parted to ask the detective just what he thought he was doing, but he was cut off as L used the grip on his waist to flip him onto his back. For the first time Light saw L—and the sight was magnificent. The detective's pale flesh was flushed pink, his mouth was hanging just slightly open, and his eyes were half lidded and glazed with lust. He was beautiful. Light wanted to tell him so, but for the nth time that night, he was robbed of his words as L entered him again with tremendous force.

_Oh…this angle…_ Light keened at the change of position, even closer than before. In this new position L's thrusts grew harsh once again, and finally, mercifully, that hand wrapped around the teen's arousal and tugged firmly. Light was close—it didn't take long for him to come undone. L's hand was skilled, wickedly so, and that coil was growing ever tighter. His eyes slid closed as he built towards his release.

L hummed disapprovingly. "Open your eyes, Light. I want to _see…_ "

So that was why he'd flipped him over, huh? Kinky bastard. The teen couldn't refuse him, though, and opened his eyes without protest. L was hovering over him as his hand continued to twist and pull, those dark eyes boring into his. He was impossibly close. And sure enough, it took only two more strokes to bring him to completion. A choked moan tore itself from his lips as the coil in his stomach released, and pearly white liquid spurted up to splatter across both his chest and L's.

"Good…" L gasped, and as he came back down to earth, Light realized that the detective was still using him, and hadn't stopped for even a moment while the teen was lost in the throes of pleasure. "Just a little longer, and…"

Light felt the exact moment when L lost all sanity. That powerful rhythm faltered, the hands at his hips working to pull and tug so that the detective could get as deep as possible. He was harsh—incredibly so, like a creature of primal nature—but it didn't take long for it to all end. Mere moments after that rhythm began to falter, L gave three more brutal thrusts before burying himself deep within Light's body and releasing with a low groan. That, too, Light felt—warm, thick liquid coating his insides, filling him to the brim. He supposed that he should have felt disgusted, but all it did was make him wish that it was next time already so that he could feel it all over again.

L's head had dropped to his chest in exhaustion. Now he raised it, looking up blearily at Light. "Hey…" he breathed, "are you okay?"

It took a moment for Light to come back to his senses. When he did, he gave a shallow nod. "…Yeah, I think so. Damn, L, that was…"

The detective silenced him with a sloppy kiss. "Hmph…too tired to talk. Now…now I need sleep."

Light agreed with a yawn. "Just let me clean up, yeah?"

L seemed too far gone to understand. Still, though, he gave a tiny nod and pulled out. He left tiny flickers of pleasure in his wake, though far more prominent was the discomfort that came with suddenly feeling so empty.

Light stumbled to his feet and barely managed to make it to the bathroom. The discomfort was worth it, though—he would _not_ sleep in his current condition.

"Light…" L whined from the bedroom. "Come on…"

The teen took a few minutes to clean himself up. Then, exhaustion setting in, he drug himself back over to the bed and collapsed back onto it. The bed was a bit of a mess, but it was far better now than it had been a few minutes prior. It would do.

"Good," L hummed, slinging an arm across Light's waist once he laid back down. "You're back…now stay here."

Feeling the vice-like grip being imposed upon him, Light laughed tiredly. "I don't exactly have a choice, L. You're holding me hostage here."

There was no response.

"L?"

Still, no response.

Light leaned in close, slightly concerned. Then he chuckled, seeing that L had fallen fast asleep. "Dummy," he sighed affectionately. He reached out his free hand, ruffling that dark hair. He was beautiful like this, Light thought. Wild and untamed.

He laughed again. What a silly thought.

"See you in a bit, L," he murmured, lying his head down on his companion's chest. "Just…a few hours from now…" He yawned, eyes drifting closed.

Then exhaustion set in, and his world faded to black.

†††

Several hours later, L awoke to the alarm on his phone going off. _Oh,_ he thought, groaning lightly, _I really don't want to get up. Strange…it seems like this has been happening a lot lately._ He reached over and slapped at his phone wearily, giving a satisfied sigh when the infernal beeping shut off. _Good…now what was that alarm for again?_ He took a moment to rub at his eyes, mind running slower than it should have been. _And why the hell is it so warm in here?_ Burning fingers traced across the cool surface of the bedside table, searching for something. He didn't quite know what, but something told him he was forgetting something important.

His first clue came when his fingertips came to rest on the sleek cover of what felt like a notebook, though he couldn't be sure due to the darkness of the room. His second clue came when he felt movement at his other side, and the arm resting over his waist tightened its grip minutely. There was a brief pause as L's head whipped around, and he found himself staring at Light. The teen was still fast asleep, sprawled out on his back with one arm flung carelessly over the detective's waist. _Cute,_ L thought, then shook his head violently in frustration. Now wasn't the time to obsess over his companion. Or…lover? Something was supposed to be happening now, he began to remember, and he had to watch over everything to make sure his plan went smoothly.

His plan.

Right…his plan.

What was that again?

Another moment passed, and L couldn't rip his eyes from Light's defenseless form. He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the teen, returning his gaze to his phone. He carefully read the message set just below the reminder.

_Misa,_ was all it said. And for far too long L found himself unable to remember just what that was supposed to entail. But when it finally came back—when he remembered that a criminal would be sneaking into the building right this minute—his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. That's right—Misa! L shot out of bed at an alarming pace, wincing as he realized the activities of only a few hours ago had left him feeling a bit more exhausted than he would have liked. He could only imagine how Light would be feeling.

Speaking of the teen, L's harsh movement had jarred him rather rudely, and he emitted a tiny grumble of discontentment in response. It seemed he was beginning to emerge from whatever dream he'd been immersed in. "Light," he urged in a soft whisper, nudging the teen in an attempt to rouse him further. It was time to leave.

As if on cue, the teen rolled over to face him. His caramel eyes cracked open blearily, and even glazed with exhaustion they were breathtaking. "L?" he rasped, voice low and incredibly attractive. "Is it time?"

"It is," L confirmed. "The criminal is entering the building as we speak."

A spark of excitement set Light's eyes alight, and the next moment he was pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. "Really?" he asked. "Then let's go; I need to be there if the plan is going to work."

"I don't think—"

Before he could protest, Light was attempting to stand—and then he was slipping, and not more than a heartbeat after that he'd fallen to the ground with a pained gasp. "Ouch…" he groaned, one hand shooting to his lower back. "Damn, that hurts a lot more than I thought it would." He shot a glare up at L through a curtain of messy auburn hair, complaining, "Why did you have to go and do _that_ right before we're supposed to go off and end this whole mess with Misa?"

"You were the one who agreed to it," L pointed out flatly.

The teen's lips pursed in an indignant pout. "I didn't agree, I was coerced into cooperation!"

Eye twitching in irritation at the waste of time, L moved to Light and hauled him up, making sure he wasn't about to keel over a second time. "Just tell me your plan and let me execute it so you can stay here and rest." He gave the teen a subtle nudge towards the bed.

"Like hell!" Light pushed past him, walking (if somewhat unsteadily) towards the door. "We said we'd stay together, and that's what we're going to do. And besides, this won't work if you're the one carrying out the plan! It has to be me. Now, are you coming? We're wasting time."

_So stubborn…_ L shoved his hands into his pockets. "You must have a death wish."

"Hardly." Light pulled open the bedroom door and hovered just inside the doorway, waiting for L to join him. "I've died once before, and I don't intend to do it again."

"That's a bit of a stretch," L murmured, though he moved to join him without much hesitation. "Check your watch. What time is it?"

Light's eyes grazed over the timepiece. "Five minutes until the criminal is scheduled to die. If your calculations are correct, then he should be walking down the west corridor right now. He should reach the chamber in two minutes."

L gave a thoughtful nod. "Just as planned. Now, so long as Rem does what we expect her to, and so long as you can execute whatever kind of plan you've devised…"

"…All the pieces should fall into place," Light finished confidently. He started moving down the hallway, joined momentarily by L. The detective didn't miss the slight limp the teen was sporting, nor did he fail to notice the slight grimace of pain twisted across his face.

"If this works, we'll gain possession of all but one of the notebooks in the human world," L pointed out in an attempt to avoid falling into silence. He very much wanted to avoid the silence—if he stopped talking, then he might start thinking about what came next, or what he'd just done with Light, or the plan he was formulating for the future—and he didn't think he could handle such morose thoughts.

Light seemed to understand, even if he didn't know exactly what was going through his head. "Another step forward." His eyes turned skyward, arms rising to cross behind his head, stretching deeply. "Soon we will see whether or not this world will attempt to correct the changes we've made."

The detective's eyes slipped shut momentarily. When he reopened them, the two of them were turning the corner on the way to the western corridor. "It's troubling, to say the least."

Such a heavy topic…

They'd reached the western corridor. As Light began to turn the corner, L reached out with a hand and stopped him. "Wait."

The teen turned, confused. "What's wrong?"

L pushed one hand back into his pocket, removing two bundles of cloth. He handed one to Light and began unfolding his own. "Put that on," he requested. "It will protect you from Rem."

"A mask?" Light guessed before he was halfway through unfolding the thin cloth.

Humming in affirmation, L secured the cloth mask over his face. The fabric was very thin, but the deep black color would prevent anyone from seeing past it. The mask itself was elementary in nature, a simple cloth draped over the face and secured in place by two straps that wrapped around the back of the head. Once he was done, the detective looked up at his companion. Then he laughed, unable to contain himself.

"What?" Light snapped irritably.

"You look ridiculous."

"Well _you_ look just as bad as I do! These masks clearly weren't designed to look good; they look like they were cut out of a piece of paper by a kindergartener! The holes for the eyes are lopsided!"

An undignified snort was the only response he got. "It does its job, so there's no need to worry over how it looks." His tone grew playfully sarcastic. "Besides, I'm sure nothing as silly as a mask could possibly dim your beauty."

"Idiot," Light grumbled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. "You shouldn't tease people like that."

Smirking at the embarrassed look on his companion's face, L almost didn't notice as they turned another corner, bringing them very close to Misa's cell. And the instant they turned that corner, L froze—because the door to Misa's cell was open, and the sound of a scuffle was emanating from within. The criminal was there.

Light heard it too. He stopped dead in his tracks, one hand instinctively shooting out to grab L's arm tightly. He fell silent, an awed expression on his face, and L knew exactly what he was feeling. It was funny…even though they'd both known that this moment was coming, it felt unreal now that it had arrived. It was as if until this moment, the concept that they'd actually condemned someone to death simply to get rid of a shinigami, and that the man they'd chosen to die was about to do so, hadn't quite sunk in.

A scream split the air, and the spell was broken. L and Light took off at a sprint at the exact same time, bolting for Misa's cell. She should be okay, there was little risk she'd be harmed—but L could practically feel the worry coming off the teen in waves. If his heart hadn't been pounding a mile a minute, and if he hadn't been feeling an incredible surge of exhilaration at that exact moment, L would have taken time to feel jealous that Light was worried about someone that wasn't him. But that was unreasonable, of course—if there was one thing L had learned in the past few weeks, it was that Light simply cared about the fates of innocent people, and Misa certainly fell into that category—at least to a certain degree. Of course he was worried about her, because according to him, she didn't deserve death.

L knew better.

She was a criminal. She would die.

L's attention was drawn back to the present as Light pulled ahead of him, reaching Misa's cell first. He made to enter the room, but something stopped him. The teen simply stood there, entirely frozen, muscles visibly tensed. If his face had been visible, L was sure his expression would have been one of horror.

L drew to Light's side not a moment later and finally saw what he was seeing.

It wasn't a pretty sight. The criminal, whose face was shrouded by the darkness of the cell, had Misa cornered. A gun was clenched in one of the man's hands, and he was raising it to press against Misa's forehead. He didn't speak a word, simply threatened the poor girl silently. His finger tensed over the trigger, but L knew he wouldn't—couldn't—pull it.

L suddenly realized that the most crucial element of their plan was nowhere to be found. _Where is Rem?_ he thought, alarmed. He'd touched Misa's Death Note; he should be able to see her. His eyes scanned the room, frantically searching. If Rem wasn't there, then everything would be for nothing. But then he saw her, bristling with alarm just to the side of the door. He'd ran straight past her when he'd entered the room. She hadn't done anything—hadn't pulled out her Death Note, hadn't taken a step forward, hadn't done anything but stare. And of _course_ she hadn't, because just like the first time L had tried this, she knew that Misa's life wasn't in any danger. If Rem was going to die, it wasn't going to be because of the criminal threatening Misa—it was going to be because of Light's plan, whatever it was.

Rem seemed to have no idea that L and Light could see her. Her eyes were locked solely on Misa, on the man that seemed to be about a heartbeat away from ending her life.

_Come on, Light…you've got to do this. Make Rem act—make her end her own life._

L's fists clenched as Rem did nothing, and Light did nothing. In a few minutes the criminal would die, and if Light hadn't done something to provoke Rem into doing _something_ that would result in her death, their plan would have failed. They'd have to regroup, try something better.

But then, just as L was about to call it quits and just let the criminal die, Light acted.

It was so fast that L didn't even have the chance to realize what had happened. One minute Light was standing beside him and the next he was tearing across the cell towards Misa. L saw Rem jump as the teen moved—she hadn't noticed L and Light enter the room, not in the face of such a surprising attempt on Misa's life. Now she was seeing them for the first time, and her features were twisted into what L thought was an expression of surprise. She seemed stunned into speechlessness as Light darted towards the criminal, unable to voice a thing.

L reacted in the exact opposite way. Instead of being stunned into silence, he was stunned into a sudden bought of horrified yelling. "Light!" he cried out, "what the hell do you think you're doing?" He was too startled to register the fact that he'd both given Rem a part of Light's name and cursed in the same sentence.

And then L swore again, louder—because the flimsy mask Light wore had been torn away by the sheer force of his movement across the cell, falling away from his face and fluttering to the ground like a wilted flower petal. His face was exposed. Rem could see his name.

Light didn't even pause. He reached the criminal in record time, and to L's horror, he pulled him away from Misa. "I won't let you harm her!" he snarled.

Horror was replaced by confusion. Light knew that the criminal wouldn't hurt Misa, so why had he…?

"I don't know how you got in here," Light continued, expression twisting as the criminal began struggling against the constraining grip he had on his shoulders, "but you won't be allowed to use that gun on Misa!"

The criminal said nothing in response, because he had been ordered into silence when his name had been written in the Death Note. He was no better than a zombie now, his mind having been completely given over to the notebook. And perhaps it was for that reason that he fought so hard against Light. The criminal had been ordered to hold the gun to Misa's head, and now he was no longer doing such a thing. He needed to fulfill his obligation, needed to continue doing what he was supposed to be doing—and so he fought with all the strength he had, thrashing as Light struggled to hold him in place. And then the man broke free, and with one punch Light staggered back and struck the wall.

L's blood ran cold. _I thought they couldn't hurt others while under the influence of the Death Note. Or…was it that they couldn't_ kill _under the influence of the Death Note? If that's the case, then could he hurt Light?_ He took a step forward, but for some reason he found himself unable to intervene.

Light pushed himself off the wall, a red mark forming just under his right eye where he'd been struck. "Bastard!" he spat. "I'll take you down here and now!" He threw himself at the man again. But this time, L saw something strange. Light's eyes were narrowed to slits, but not in any kind of aggression or lust for violence—rather, they were narrowed in an intelligent, calculative manner.

_This is the plan,_ L realized. _This is the plan he's been talking about…but what is he up to?_

Light went for the gun in a bold lunge. He sealed one hand around each of the man's wrists, forcing him to step back even further from Misa. The teen managed to get one hand wrapped around the hand holding the gun, pulling at it in an attempt to get it away from the criminal. Unfortunately, it didn't seem go the way Light had planned. The criminal let out a vicious snarl, and the gun dropped towards Light swiftly, aiming straight between his eyes. The teen immediately leaned to one side, extended his grip as far as it would go, and applied sharp pressure to the hand holding the gun. L took a step forward, horrified, when he saw the man's finger tense on the trigger. He couldn't fire on his own, but with the way Light was pressing, he would press the man's finger down on the trigger and make him shoot. Just what did he think he was doing?

"Light!" he exclaimed, meaning to intervene at last. But the look the teen shot him stopped him dead in his tracks. That expression…that confidence…Light knew what he was doing.

"Trust me," Light ordered, "I can handle this. He won't get past me."

L's mind went into overdrive, trying to figure out what Light was trying to accomplish. He gave the teen a questioning look, hoping to get some answers—but all he received in response was a subtle wink and a tiny smile. Then Light's hand tightened around the gun, and the man's finger pulled the trigger against his own will.

A shot fired, echoing through the tiny cell powerfully.

The silence that rang out was more deafening than the shot itself. Everyone in the room was frozen—Rem stood immobile in the corner, L was frozen in the doorway, Misa hadn't moved an inch from where she was cowering against the wall. The man was standing firm, pointing his gun in front of him. Light's hand was still grasping the gun—and when L followed that arm to Light's torso, then to his other arm, he was met with a shocking sight.

Blood. Light was bleeding.

L took a closer look, and immediately saw that it wasn't serious. He'd leaned out of the way before he made the man shoot, so that the bullet had only grazed his upper arm. It was a flesh wound, nothing more, and though it was bleeding a good amount, it wouldn't kill him. L again tried to figure out what was happening, and failed. Just what was Light doing, getting himself shot?

The silence reigned firm, until suddenly…

"Misa!"

Rem's voice rang out clearly, the first time L had ever heard her speak. The shinigami still didn't move, but her eyes were now locked on Misa instead of the scuffle between Light and the criminal. L followed her gaze curiously to the model, and—

_Oh._ He could barely conceal a smirk as everything suddenly clicked into place. _Oh, Light, you clever little minx._

He saw what had really happened. And more importantly, he saw the blood dripping down Misa's ear from where the bullet had grazed her on its way to blast through the wall less than an inch to the right of her head. It had been close—if Light had aimed that shot any closer, he might have actually killed her. L turned his gaze on the teen. If he was right about what Light's plan was, then…

Sure enough, the teen's grip slackened, and it took only one blow to send him staggering backwards once again. Light crashed into the wall and sank to the ground. The teen let himself go limp, head lolling loosely on his shoulders, and didn't get up.

With Light disposed of, the criminal turned his gaze on Misa. He trudged towards her again, gun rising back to her forehead.

Misa looked utterly terrified. "No!" she shrieked. "No, please, you can't kill me! I don't want to die, not yet!" Her hands rose in front of her face, as if she could protect herself from the inevitable bullet with flesh and blood alone. But the criminal didn't stop, and that gun continued its slow ascension.

And just like that, Rem snapped.

The shinigami swung into action immediately, just as L hoped she would—but to his alarm, she didn't reach for her notebook. Instead, she went right for the criminal, talon-like claws bent menacingly.

It was then that L realized what was about to happen. But by the time he knew, it was too late to duck and cover.

There was a short, sputtering gasp. The next moment, blood sprayed across the walls as the criminal fell to the ground, head nearly separated from his shoulders.

Dead.

And behind him, L knew that Misa's lifespan had just shot back up.


	26. Wunjo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love this chapter! It's one of my favorites so far, so I really hope you guys enjoy it just as much as I do.
> 
> If you like the story, don't hesitate to leave me a comment telling me what you think. I love talking with you guys!

L stood in stunned silence, staring at the room around him. Blood dripped down the walls in streams, running across the floor and meeting at the nearly decapitated body of the criminal. He was dead, there was doubt of that.

Just behind him, Misa was collapsed on the ground, perfectly unharmed. When she'd seen the man's head be torn nearly clean off, she'd fainted, simple as that. L himself was feeling quite faint, so he didn't blame her.

To Misa's right, Light was curled up on his side, arms over his head and soaked with the criminal's blood. He was conscious and mostly unharmed, but he hadn't gotten up yet. L suspected he was afraid to face what had just happened.

And then there was Rem. Or rather, the pile of ashy sand that _used_ to be Rem. She'd disintegrated in a matter of moments, wordlessly melting down into a heap of whatever the hell was scattered across the ground. But that didn't matter to L—what mattered was the thin black notebook tucked neatly into the top of the ash. He moved towards it immediately and, being careful to first pull his gloves over his hands, picked it out of the strange substance. He was swift to place it in a protective sleeve and hide it beneath his shirt, as he so often did with the notebook he normally used.

After that, he picked his way over to Light. He knelt beside the teen, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. He was glad his hands were gloved, or he would have been smearing his unprotected skin through the blood splattered across his entire body. "Light," he urged, "I know you're conscious."

The teen tensed visibly. Then he sighed, body relaxing, and lowered his arms. His face came into view. Drips of scarlet decorated the pale flesh, though it wasn't nearly as bad as the gore that soaked the rest of his body. What worried L more was the prominent bruise forming beneath his right eye and the slice in his arm from where the bullet had grazed him. "She's dead?" he asked wearily, and L knew he meant Rem.

"Yes, Light, she is. You performed brilliantly. I knew there was a reason I liked you so much."

The teen smiled, but it seemed forced. "I don't like manipulating people," he admitted. "And that…that felt like the greatest manipulation of all." He shivered.

"Manipulation or no, you won the day," L assured him. "Now there is only one Death Note out of our possession, and it is with the person who stole it from you. Soon, that too will be ours."

Light pushed himself up as L spoke, wincing as one hand shot to his wounded arm. "Oww…" he groaned. "That stings."

L carefully threaded one arm beneath his companion's shoulders, cringing as he felt the blood seep through his thin shirt in a matter of moments. "Come on, then," he said, "let's get you back to our room. There are some medical supplies in there, and you can shower while you're at it. It can't feel good to be covered in blood." L would know—it had happened to him before, if only rarely.

Light leaned gratefully against L, rising unsteadily. He ran a hand through his bloodied hair with a grimace. "I hit the back of my head again," he admitted in a pained tone. "I think it's bleeding."

"You idiot," L grumbled, pulling him towards the door gently. The faster they got to their room, the faster he could take care of Light's injuries. "Your performance was amazing, I've already said that—but that doesn't change the fact that what you did was _reckless._ We could have found another way."

"No," Light protested, "it was the only way. You know that."

L's brow furrowed irritably. "Still, I don't like it."

The teen merely hummed tiredly. "You understand, don't you? What I did?"

"Unfortunately, I figured it out a few minutes after you put your little plan into action."

It was simple, looking back on it. Just like before, Rem hadn't chosen to kill the criminal immediately upon seeing him threatening Misa, for she'd seen that his lifespan was about to hit zero, signifying that he was most likely being controlled by the notebook. It was with that in mind that Rem had waited for the criminal to keel over, leaving Misa unharmed. She had known, like L and Light had known, that humans couldn't harm other humans simply because the Death Note commanded it. Without Light's intervention, it all would have been over right then and there, just as it was the first time the plan had been attempted. The criminal would die, Misa would be unharmed, and Rem would remain untouched and ready to defend the second Kira another day. But the fact was, Light _had_ intervened—and that was where things became truly interesting.

Light, seeing that his plan was the only way to win, had swung into action. He'd ripped of his mask and went after the criminal, feigning a vicious fight in order to build the façade. Then, as Rem watched, he'd grabbed onto the criminal's gun and pointed it at himself. The gun had gone off shorty after that, grazing Light's arm and nicking Misa's ear before planting itself straight into the wall of the cell. To Rem, it appeared that the criminal—supposedly under the control of the Death Note—had just harmed two human beings. And if the criminal had hurt both Light and Misa, that meant that he couldn't _possibly_ be under the control of the notebook, for the notebook forbade its victims from harming other humans while under its control. The criminal's lifespan was about to run out, yes—but not because of the notebook. At least, that was what Rem thought. The truth, though…was a bit more complex.

The truth was that Light was the one that had fired that gun. Light had held the criminal's hand in such a way that when the gun fired, it was due to _Light_ pressing down on the man's fingers and pulling the trigger himself. And that…changed _everything_. It meant that Rem had been convinced that the criminal wasn't under the notebook's control—and that meant she was convinced that said criminal could quite possibly kill Misa before his lifespan ran out. That wasn't enough to get her to act, though. There was one last thing Light had needed to take care of: Misa's lifespan. If that lifespan didn't drop, then Rem wouldn't act—and it was with that in mind that Light had designed the next part of his plan.

L knew better than anything else that when it came to the Death Note, intentionwas everything. If someone pointed a gun at someone else with the intention of ending their life, their lifespan would drop. If someone pointed a gun, or a knife, or _anything_ lethal at someone else and thought, _I am going to kill you in two minutes exactly,_ their lifespan would drop to two minutes. Intentions meant the world to the notebook. And Light, knowing that, had been all too swift to take advantage. That was where the knife came in. The knife from the kitchen that, as L supported his lover with one hand around his waist and another around his shoulders, stuck out just slightly from beneath Light's shirt. The knife that the teen had somehow managed to get his hands on, even in the chaos of the early night, and hide without L suspecting a thing. Light had kept that knife on him for the duration of the confrontation. Then, when he'd allowed the criminal to throw him to the ground as he advanced on Misa, he'd used it—or rather, he'd used the _idea_ of it.

_Less than forty seconds,_ he'd thought. _I will use this knife to end Misa Amane's life in less than forty seconds._ The hard part of the plan had been making himself _believe_ it, though—because if he didn't really believe it, didn't really mean it, then Misa's lifespan wouldn't change. Light, though, had performed brilliantly. His intensions had been resolute. He'd clutched the hilt of the knife, concealed so well beneath his shirt, and he'd truly believed that he was going to kill Misa Amane. And when that happened, Misa Amane's lifespan shot down to a matter of seconds.

Rem had seen that change. She had seen Misa's blood, dripping down from the place where the bullet had grazed her. She had seen the criminal, advancing upon Misa with his gun drawn and readied. And in her situation, she'd made the only plausible assumption—that the criminal was about to end Misa's life. She never even suspected that Amane's shift in lifespan was because of Light. And what was more, her shift in lifespan had set her below forty seconds to live, for that was what Light had willed. Less than forty seconds to live. Not enough time to use the notebook.

And so Rem, faced with Misa's immanent demise, had done the only thing she could to keep her alive.

She'd lashed out physically. She'd taken the man's head nearly clean off. And as the rules of the notebook stated, gods of death were forbidden from harming humans through means other than the Death Note. So strictly forbidden, in fact, that any breach of the law ended in the immediate termination of the shinigami in question.

In other words, Rem's life was immediately ended—and as her life came to an end, Light no longer had any reason to kill Misa, returning her lifespan to normal.

A masterful and complete plan, if a little risky.

L was both impressed and irritated that Light had put himself in danger in order to complete their goal. "You're brilliant," he admitted, "but you're also an idiot." He ushered the teen past the doors and into the hall.

"Wait!" Light protested, suddenly sounding alarmed. "What about the room? It's covered in blood! And Misa's still in there."

"I'll call Watari."

"I thought we didn't want him to know about what happened."

"Right, right…" L pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly. "Would it be cruel of me to use the Death Note to make a criminal clean it all up for us!"

"L!" Light gasped, horrified. "Don't joke about things like that!"

L rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. "Of course. I apologize."

Light deflated immediately, exhaustion evident in the way he slumped against L. "Thank you."

The detective closed the doors behind them, supporting Light every step of the way. "But…it _would_ be a lot easier if I just wrote someone's name—"

"L!"

"Fine, fine…"

†††

Light collapsed onto the lid of the toilet the instant L got him into the bathroom and let go of him. The detective reached for the shower, turning it on as Light watched tiredly. He felt terrible, to put it lightly. He'd already been sore from the night's activities when he'd flung himself at the criminal, and it hadn't exactly helped his physical condition. Now, sitting on the lid of the toilet as L made sure the water was warm enough for him, all he could feel was an overwhelming ache that reached every part of his body. His arm was the worst. He had one hand clasped over the wound, and even still he could feel warm blood seeping out from between his fingers. It wasn't a serious injury; it would stop bleeding as soon as L got it bandaged. But still, it hurt like hell, and he was far too tired to deal with pain at the moment.

"Up," L urged, using no more words than were necessary. He too seemed to be feeling the lure of rest, even though he hadn't been the one to throw himself at the criminal with reckless abandon. Funny, how that worked.

Light pushed himself up stiffly. He attempted to raise his arms to discard his shirt, but found himself unable to do much more than wince and grumble in a low tone about being useless.

"You're not useless," L assured him. "Weren't you feeling proud of yourself for taking down Rem just a few minutes ago?"

It took too much effort to respond, so Light simply stood still and watched as L walked over and began rummaging through the drawers under the sink. A moment later he emerged with a pair of scissors.

"I hope you don't like that shirt too much," the detective said blandly, beginning to cut away the fabric. "I don't want to risk aggravating that wound any further by having you raise your arms."

Light had to agree—just standing still was making the damn thing throb. "It's your shirt," he pointed out as the fabric fell away. "Besides, it's covered in blood."

L put down the scissors and moved to his companion's pants, taking a moment to loosen them before pulling them down smoothly, boxers coming with them. Light would have blushed, but the blood that would normally have risen to his cheeks was busy leaking out of his arm.

L tossed the bloodied garments into the corner of the bathroom and helped Light towards the shower. "No funny business," he assured him as the teen stepped inside. "Just wash all that blood off."

"What about you?" Light inquired. L was splattered with blood as well, though not nearly as thoroughly as he was. "You need to wash up."

"I'll do it after I'm done fixing you up," L responded reassuringly. "Besides, I still need to clean up Misa's cell and make sure she doesn't go saying anything to anyone about what happened. If Watari happened to go in to bring her something to eat and she told him what happened…"

Light shuddered. "Good point." He stepped under the water, sighing contentedly as it beat down on his sore shoulders. It was warm, almost scalding, but it felt incredible. His fingers curled around the dial, cranking up the heat even further until it really _was_ burning his skin. He felt the need to sear away all remnants of what had happened, all signs that he'd taken part in such a devious conspiracy. His actions had led to the deaths of a human and a shinigami that night. It didn't matter if L was the one to write his name, or if Rem was technically the one to end her own life. What mattered was that Light had aided L in doing what he did—and that made him just as bad. But then again, hadn't L assured him that it was for the greater good? Now they had all but one notebook, and their lives were no longer in danger because of Misa. This had been for the greater good…hadn't it?

In his heart, Light wasn't so sure.

"I'll help you clean up," Light shot over his shoulder, reaching for the shampoo pouring some into his hand. He raised his hands halfway to his head and winced, pain lacing up his spine. "I don't want you to have to clean Misa's cell by yourself." He tried to raise his arms further to reach his hair, but only ended up letting out a low hiss as his shoulder gave a throb, followed by his head. His cheek didn't feel too good either.

"You've done enough," L insisted. "You need rest, not more work."

Light couldn't help but agree. He attempted once again to raise his hands to his head to wash his hair, but he found himself unable to do much more than get his hands to his chest. A tiny groan of frustration escaped his lips.

L seemed to understand. His clothes were cast off in a matter of moments, despite him insisting that he would wait until later, and he slipped into the shower beside Light. "I'll help you," he murmured. "It's the least I can do after everything I've put you through."

The teen couldn't help but sigh contentedly as the detective began to wash his hair, fingers delving deep into the tangled mess. It felt good to let himself be taken care of, especially when he was in such a sorry state. "You know," he sighed, "it's funny…it seems like my old injuries aren't even allowed to heal before new ones just pop up like weeds."

L winced. "My fault, I'm afraid. All your pain has been caused by me."

"Very true." Light leaned under the water as L started to rinse the suds from his hair. "But that ends now."

"What makes you say that, exactly?"

"Easy—we have all but one notebook. And once we have that last one, there will never be a reason for either of us to get hurt ever again. No one will be able to equal us." It was true—and Light wasn't sure if he thought it was a good thing or a bad thing. All that power…it frightened him to some degree.

"In that case, you should say that it won't happen again _after_ we get the last notebook from the thief," L corrected. "You never know what kind of antics we might have to get up to in order to catch this person. We could very well come to harm."

"True, true…"

After that, they lapsed into a pensive silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It didn't take long for the two to finish with their shower, and a few minutes later found Light sitting up on the counter, towel around his waist, and L rummaging around for medical supplies, jeans pulled up loosely around his hips.

"I know I left some bandages and antiseptic around here," the detective murmured. "Where did I leave them?"

"This is what you get for being a slob," Light teased playfully.

L ignored him. "Ah, here we go!" He turned around with antiseptic in hand, already opening the cap and dabbing a wad of cotton balls in the solution. "Now, let me see that arm."

Light stretched out his arm tentatively, hardly trusting L with medical equipment. "Knock yourself out—but don't knock _me_ out, okay?"

That earned him an exasperated look. "I'm not a child, Light—I will not hurt you on accident." He took the teen's arm with one hand, stretching it out further to examine the wound. "Unfortunately, this _will_ sting a bit. The cut isn't deep, so you shouldn't need stitches, but we're still going to bandage this up." He gingerly dabbed the antiseptic onto the slice, prompting a pained hiss from the teen. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine…" Light drew breaths sharply as the detective worked at the widest part of the wound. "I'd rather it be this than letting it get infected."

L finished up with the antiseptic in record time. Casting the bottle aside, he reached for the bandages and began wrapping up the afflicted area. "Now your head," he said, beckoning Light forward. He clicked his tongue when he saw the reopened slice buried in the amber hair. "This looks a bit nasty. It's reopened again, and it's bleeding a bit."

"Oh no," Light protested, feeling the dull throb beginning to intensify with every word the detective spoke. "You're not going to have to stitch it closed, are you?"

L hummed thoughtfully, fingers brushing the inflamed wound. "No, I think it's healed enough to go without stitches. It hasn't split open too severely, just a small amount, so I think you can get off with a bit of disinfectant and a warning to be careful."

Antiseptic was dabbed onto the cut carefully. This one stung too, but not as bad as his arm.

L pushed him back when he was done, giving him a brief once over. "Okay, almost done. Your cheek is the only thing left."

Light laughed, his voice coming out as a low rasp. "You can't really do anything about that, L."

The detective leaned down, cupping Light's face between two hands. A thumb brushed over the bruised area gently. Even the lightest pressure made Light wince, though, and L immediately withdrew the offending digit. "It's swelling," he reported mournfully. "The skin wasn't broken, though, so the only thing I can do is get you some ice."

Light pushed him away. "Honestly, L, I'm perfectly fine now. Don't worry about my cheek, it just stings a bit."

L consented, taking a step back and simply staring.

"What is it?" Light asked, feeling self-conscious.

"Oh, nothing. It's just…" L raised a thumb to his lips thoughtfully. "When your father sees that, he's going to kill me."

"Don't worry," Light assured him, though he secretly feared the thought of how he was going to explain the bruise to his father. "We're going to frame Misa, right? We can tell him that she did it, or something like that. We _are_ going to tell them that Misa is Kira in the next few days, right?"

"We'll tell them tomorrow, given that everything goes well."

Light's heart leapt in his chest. "So soon…" He'd known it would be soon, of course, but he hadn't really _realized_ just how soon it would be.

"Soon?" L echoed. "It's taken far too long to get to this point, if you ask me."

That was partially true, at least. It felt as if Light had spent the past month or so in limbo, unable to do much of anything other than sleep and wait for L to return. "I suppose you're right; it has taken us a few months. But still…after so long of being unable to do anything, it feels strange for me to start working with the task force just in time disband them and frame Misa."

"We won't be disbanding them just yet," L reminded him. "We need to wait until Misa is sentenced to death. After that we can declare the case closed and dissolve the team."

Light felt a tiny flicker of trepidation at the thought of being on his own with L so soon. The fact that he'd committed to something like this, the fact that he'd agreed to stay with L and work with him…it was beginning to scare him. "We didn't have enough time to convince my father that I'm not staying with you because you're threatening me," he lamented quietly, though that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

L sighed, halting his movements. Then he leaned back slowly, tossing the dirtied cotton into the trashcan in the corner of the room. "We have a few days still." He didn't sound hopeful.

"We timed this poorly," was Light's response. "If we'd just realized sooner what we wanted to do, then we could have spent this whole time convincing my father of your less than malicious intentions." He cast his gaze towards his feet forlornly. "We spent too much time sitting around thinking and too little time acting on our thoughts."

L turned his back, opening the bathroom door and walking over the wardrobe. He vanished from sight as he presumably began rummaging around, then appeared with a new set of clothing in his hands. "We'll have to act more and think less," he joked blandly, handing the clothing to Light.

The teen slipped off the counter, legs unstable. When he unfolded the clothing he found himself looking at a fresh pair of pajamas. They were his, surprisingly—Watari must have dropped off his clothes at some point.

"We have about five hours until we have to begin work," L explained. "You should change into those and try to get some sleep."

"What about you?"

The detective shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't normally sleep every night. I didn't start sleeping much until you came around, actually. And besides, like I said, I need to clean up the mess in Misa's cell."

Light began pulling on the clothing obediently. "I feel bad about making you clean up," he protested, though he felt far more inclined to fall back into bed than to help L wipe the criminal's blood off the walls.

"Like I said, you've done enough. You need to rest." The detective took Light by the arm, helping him up and leading him back over to the bed. The teen found himself being lowered back down, head resting against the pillows. His hair was still wet, the pillow turning damp in a matter of seconds.

"…Okay," Light hummed sleepily, giving in. His arm still burned, his cheek ached, and his head throbbed painfully. He just wanted to rest. "Sorry."

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of L's lips. "You have nothing to apologize for." The detective snatched up Rem's Death Note from the bedside table, where he'd cast it before he led Light to the bathroom to wash up. "Rem is dead, and we have her Death Note. I'd call that a success, even if there's a little cleanup work to do."

L's smile was infectious, and Light found his lips curving upwards to match his. "Fair enough. Now…" He trailed off, a yawn making it impossible to speak for a moment. "Let me sleep."

L nodded and turned for the door. But then he paused and turned back, leaning down and pressing his lips to Light's forehead. Then, wordlessly, he turned and left the room.

†††

"That's it," Light groaned, horrified. "I can't face my father looking like this."

The teen stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, fingertips ghosting over the dark bruise under his right eye. The skin was a nasty shade of purplish green, fanning out over the space where the criminal had struck him the night before. L had brought some ice for him after he'd finished cleaning up Misa's cell, but it had been too little too late—the bruise had already begun forming.

L's voice shook him from his stupor. "What's wrong?" he asked, peering over Light's shoulder at his reflection. "Is it hurting?"

"Hurting?" Light scoffed. "The pain isn't the issue, genius! It's my father!"

"Hmm? Why?"

"He'll think you hit me! He already doesn't like you, and this will just push him over the edge!"

L hummed thoughtfully. "Let me see."

Light turned to face the detective, hand still partially covering the bruise. "See? It looks awful."

L's cool fingers replaced his, tracing the discolored skin. "Yes," he sympathized, "that doesn't look good. But there's nothing we can do about it now, unfortunately. We'll be explaining what happened with Misa today anyways, so we can just tell Soichiro that Misa struck you."

"I suppose, but that won't stop him from freaking out when he first sees me. He's already convinced you're an abusive asshole, you know."

"Unfortunately, I'm more than aware of your father's opinion of me. But unfortunately for _him,_ I won't be leaving you because of it."

"I expect nothing less." Light took one last look at himself, making sure his shirt was free of wrinkles and his tie was perfectly straight. He'd chosen a purple shirt for that day, long-sleeved and collared so it would hide both the wound on his arm and the bite marks littered across his neck and shoulders. "Well, this is as good as it's going to get. Let's get going."

L took the lead as they exited their room, heading down the hall. "Do you remember the plan?" he asked as they neared the elevator.

Light nodded wordlessly. That morning, as they prepared themselves to face the task force, they'd gone over exactly what they would be telling the task force and what they would be leaving out. They'd come to a firm agreement on the matter, though it took several hours to work out all the details. "Don't worry about me," he assured the detective. "I know what to say."

"Good…I'm counting on you for this."

The elevator doors slid open as they approached, and they were swift to enter and select the correct floor. Light felt something brush his side, and when he looked over, he saw L leaning against him. No words were exchanged. Instead, Light reached over and wrapped an arm around L's shoulders, pulling him closer. The two stood in complete silence as the elevator carried them towards their destination, towards the place in which they'd be forced to don their masks once more.

It ended all too soon. The doors slid open, and by the time the task force looked over to them, they'd put several feet of space between them.

As expected, Soichiro's response was immediate.

"Light!" he burst out upon seeing the discolored blotch under one eye. "What happened?"

_Well, at least he's not throwing himself at L in his anger,_ Light thought dismally. "Father," he greeted, wincing as he jostled his arm in the exact wrong way. "It's nothing, I assure you—"

"Was it _him?"_

It wasn't hard to guess who he meant. "No," Light assured him. "L didn't lay a hand on me."

"Then what—?"

L cut him off. "I will answer any questions you may have in a few minutes. But first, there is something of grave importance we must discuss."

He had the attention of the entire task force.

"I must admit, I haven't told you everything." As he spoke, L began making his way over to his seat. He crawled up into his chair in that odd way of his, toes curling over the cushioned seat. The detective motioned to the seat beside him wordlessly, beckoning Light to his side. The teen obeyed without complaint. "The truth is, while you've been working on gathering information involving Kira, I've been conducting a second investigation of my own."

The task force immediately seemed to tense as one collective being. But before any of them could protest, or even open their mouths to ask what L meant, the detective was launching into the story he'd concocted.

"Over the past month, I've been working towards Kira's capture in the investigation room with all of you. However, in the time you spend away from this place, I've been conducting my own investigation with Light as my partner. As you know, we recently took Misa Amane into custody under the suspicion of her being Kira—or at least, the second Kira. Over the past few weeks I've been working on getting a confession out of her. And although that never happened, I was able to gather enough information to prove her true identity."

Gasps rippled through the task force.

"Did you torture her?" Soichiro demanded, hands curling into fists. "Did you harm her in your attempt to get a confession?"

"You think so little of me, Mr. Yagami? It seems that you're eager to accuse me of evildoings at the drop of a hat."

The man narrowed his eyes, clearly ready to retort, but L never gave him the chance.

"In either case, that doesn't matter now. What matters is that we now have enough information to convict her. I've contacted the ICPO already, and they should be retrieving both Misa and the evidence within the day."

"What is this evidence, exactly?" Aizawa broke in, always the skeptic.

"Yeah!" Matsuda agreed with that overly excited attitude of his. "I want to know what you found, too!"

L's eye twitched in irritation. If the task force hadn't been watching, Light would have attempted to comfort him. Unfortunately, all he could do was watch. "As a part of my plan, I made Amane believe that Light was Kira. Then, knowing that she values Kira above all others, I made her think Light was about to die and ordered her to reveal her method of killing to us. I recorded every moment of our conversation, and she revealed exactly how she does what she does."

"What does she do?" Soichiro questioned. "What kind of power does she hold that allows her to end human life without being present?"

"I'm afraid the ICPO has ordered me to refrain from revealing any details of her power until the whole story is released to the public," L said. "All I can tell you is that we now know how she's been committing her murders, and that her power has been taken away from her."

_And so the first lie is planted._ Despite the fact that the lie about the ICPO was necessary, Light felt his lips curving downwards in a troubled frown. He didn't like lying to the task force. He didn't like lying to his father.

"Light," Soichiro snapped, turning to face his son. "Do you know what this power is? If you do, then you must tell us immediately! We are just as much a part of this investigation as you, and we deserve to know!"

Light kept his tone cool and reserved. "L has told me nothing of this power. And so long as he has been ordered by the ICPO to remain silent, I can't expect him to reveal anything to me. This is not his choice."

L took over. "In addition, I had one last plan enacted to test Misa's powers. I let a criminal into the building, making sure Misa knew his name and face beforehand, and allowed him to get into Misa's cell. If she was Kira, then I assumed she would kill the criminal before he killed her. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and Light was caught in the crossfire." He gestured to the bruise spread across Light's cheek. "Misa didn't immediately act to save herself by killing the criminal, and Light believed that she was going to die. He attacked the criminal to protect Misa, and was hurt in the process. That is the reason for his injuries."

Light felt his father's gaze on him, silently asking if it was true. "He's telling the truth," Light assured him in a low murmur. "L was so stunned that he froze in place, and was unable to stop the criminal from striking me."

L gave a brief nod, continuing on. "Fortunately, Misa intervened before anything worse happened. She used her power, and the criminal was killed in a matter of moments. This, too, we have video of."

"And I suppose you can't let us see that either?" Aizawa snapped bitterly. "Are you so determined to keep this from us?"

"If it were up to me, I'd show you the footage here and now. But unfortunately, that isn't my decision."

The embittered man turned away without another word, brow furrowed in frustration.

"As I was saying," L went on, "Misa murdered the criminal on camera in order to protect herself. Therefore, we have enough proof to convict her." The detective shot a subtle glance over to Light, and he caught his cue to join the conversation.

"That takes care of the second Kira," he said, "but we still need to worry about the original. L and I have talked this matter over in length, and we've decided that the best thing to do would be to wait several days to see if the murders continue."

"Why wouldn't they?" Matsuda asked. "I mean, you've taken down the second Kira, but that doesn't mean the first is just going to stop, right?"

Light responded, "Maybe not. L and I have a theory that says otherwise."

"And just what theory would that be?"

L took over once again. "Based on our observations, we believe that there may be a possibility that Misa was the one pulling the strings all along. We think that she's really the original Kira, and that she's been using her powers to control someone else to act as the second Kira. By this logic, by taking Misa down, the other Kira should stop his activities. All we have to do is wait a few days to make sure it's true. If those few days pass, and no other criminals die, then we can be relatively sure that we've taken down the only true Kira. The task force will be disbanded, and the case will be officially declared closed."

"So that's it?" Soichiro asked. "It's just going to end?"

"Provided that no more criminals die in the next few days, yes. It will end."

"And we're just supposed to stand around until then?" It was the first time Mogi had spoken a word in what felt like forever. "It seems like a waste of time, if you ask me."

L shook his head. "It will not be a waste of time because I will not require you to be here. For the next several days I will ask you to return to your work with the NPA. Then, once I have the results of our little experiment, I will call you back here. This way, none of your time will be wasted."

"Hang on a second," Soichiro protested. "You expect us to just _leave_ and go back to work while we wait for more people to die?"

"To put it bluntly, yes. But again, it is unlikely that anyone else will die."

"Unbelievable."

Light, sensing the impending fight, immediately attempted to perform damage control. "Father," he said, rising from his chair, "please calm yourself. I don't like this any more than you do, but it's the only thing we can do right now."

"Light—!"

The teen was swift to cut him off. "And since we have a few days to ourselves, I'll be able to come home and visit mother and Sayu. I've missed them, so it'll be nice to pay them a visit." It was the only thing that would placate him at this point.

"A _visit?_ Then I suppose you'll be staying here instead of coming home for good?"

Light was reminded suddenly that soon he'd have to tell his father that he wouldn't be coming home. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. "I feel obligated to stay here," he explained carefully. "Besides, L and I work well together. It would be foolish to separate us."

Soichiro looked away, grumbling irritably. But he seemed to know he had no hope of changing Light's mind. "At the very least, then, I expect you to keep your word and visit."

The teen nodded in agreement. "I will. I swear it."

Beside him, Light saw L bristle slightly. He clearly didn't like the promise. But he said nothing, only giving a small shake of his head in disapproval.

It seemed that Light would be going to visit his family, whether L liked it or not.

†††

Sure enough, when night fell, Light found himself under L's scrutiny for what he'd said to his father.

"I wish you would have spoken with me before you agreed to visit your family," L whined. "I don't like you running off without me."

"I'm sorry," Light apologized guiltily. He knew he'd let L down, and he felt terrible for it. "But you know as well as I do that it was the only thing that could prevent an all out fight between the two of you."

"Still," L pouted, "I don't like this. At least let me go with you."

"You know my father would never allow it," Light said apologetically. "He'd be furious if you showed up with me; he'd think you were following me because you thought I was Kira. If I go alone, then he'll be convinced that you're allowing me some freedom."

The detective's look made Light's heart jump in his chest. "I suppose you're right, unfortunately. I still don't like it."

"You have nothing to worry about. I'll make it quick, only an hour or two, and then I'll return to your side." He glanced behind him, making sure the door to their bedroom was closed. Then he stepped forward boldly and pulled L into a hug, wrapping the detective's scrawny frame firmly in his arms. "I'll set out tomorrow at noon."

L's fingers dug into his back suddenly, holding him close for a brief moment before pushing him just far enough away so that he could look him in the eye. "Noon…" he murmured thoughtfully. "But until then…"

Light gasped as L's lips crashed to his, hungry and demanding. "Hey!" he protested, managing to pull back for only a moment before L succeeded in silencing him once again with a searing kiss. Those pale fingers wound into his hair, holding him firmly in place and leaving no room for protest. L was leaving no room for protest, no question of who owned who. "L, we—!"

The detective let him go just long enough to shove him backwards, sending him toppling to the bed. "Shush," L chastised, falling over him and covering his lips for a third time. "You said you weren't leaving until noon, right?"

Light barely managed to hum in agreement, breath escaping him in a whoosh as L's hands gripped his waist firmly, pinning him down.

"Good." L's teeth applied gentle pressure to the juncture between neck and shoulder, not biting, not claiming as he had the night before, but simply brushing across the already bruised skin. A nimble tongue darted out, laving over the sensitive skin and drawing a soft moan from the teen. "Then until then…"

"Mph!" Light turned his head to the side, subconsciously offering himself to the detective hovering over him. "L!"

The grin L shot him in return was nothing short of lecherous. "You're mine."

And Light, hooking an arm around L's neck and drawing him closer, had little cause to protest.

†††

Light peeled himself out of bed at ten o'clock the next morning, feeling much better than he had the previous night. He was still sore, yes, but most of the pain from his arm and head had faded to a dull ache. Unsurprisingly, when he looked over to where L should have been, the detective was gone. He was probably in the kitchen fetching some kind of sweet concoction for his consumption. So, then, he was on his own for a bit. Groaning, Light rubbed at his head as he stumbled over to the wardrobe. He picked out a casual outfit, stealing a pair of L's jeans and grabbing one of his own black short-sleeved shirts. Then he gathered up his clothing, still strewn about the room from the previous night's activities, and dumped them into the hamper. A short trip to the bathroom to comb out his hair and brush his teeth later, he was snatching his phone off the bedside table and making his way out of the room and down the hallway. _I don't see L,_ he noted as he stepped into the elevator and selected the ground floor. _Oh well, I suppose he knows where I'll be. If he gets worried, he can always just call me._ The elevator dinged, and Light walked out onto the ground floor. The exit was ahead of him, and it struck him that soon, for the first time in months, he'd be walking free. It was exhilarating. _I won't take the subway,_ Light decided as he neared the doors. _I can see the sun…it looks like such a nice day. And I could really use a bit of a walk to cheer me up._

The teen pushed open the door, and he was suddenly stepping outside, facing the light of day for the first time in what felt like forever. _It's so warm…_

He began walking once again, the light breeze ruffling his hair, and was unable to contain a grin at the thought of seeing his family once again.

†††

Not far away, scarlet eyes tracked the teen's movements curiously.

_Strange,_ Beyond thought, watching as Light started heading down the street. _No L?_ This was incredibly unusual. From what Beyond had observed, Light never went anywhere without L, not since he'd been taken to headquarters. _This could be my chance._

Up until this point, Beyond had had no way to contact Light. He'd wanted to, of course, as per his determination to both take down L and free his puppet. But every time he'd started to try, it had been far too dangerous. L never seemed to leave his side. Hell, from what he could tell, the two of them even _showered_ together. But now, for some reason, Light seemed to be alone. There was no L hovering at his shoulder, no pesky camera trained on him, watching his every move.

Light was alone. Light was defenseless.

_You're lucky I don't want to hurt him, L. If I did, then I could kill him here and now._

Beyond, lurking in the alleyway behind a building, slid into the shadows as he began stalking after the unsuspecting teen. _I need to get him away from all the people on the streets. If I can just get him by himself,_ truly _by himself, and talk to him, then there's a chance I can get him to see reason. At the very least I can plant the seeds of doubt and begin to chip away at that trust he's formed with L. With any luck, I can convince him to stay away from L, leave the investigation._

Beyond ducked into another alleyway as Light turned his head, obviously sensing someone watching him. But a moment later he seemed to conclude that it was nothing, for he turned and continued walking.

_I won't miss my chance,_ Beyond vowed, moving to blend in with the crowd. _I will save you. I will take you away from L before he does to you what he's done to so many others._

†††

By the time Light reached his home, he was thoroughly unnerved. Throughout his journey, he'd been plagued by the feeling of someone watching him. But every time he turned his head, every time he attempted to pinpoint the source of the piercing gaze, all he'd been able to see was a flash of movement, then nothing. Someone was ducking out of the way every time he checked. But who could possibly want to follow him? His first thought was that L hadn't been able to stand the thought of him going out alone. But after catching a glimpse of red eyes, he knew that it couldn't be him. No…this was someone else. Someone darker.

But none of that mattered for the moment, for Light had just reached his home. He let himself in swiftly, locking the door behind him. Even if it was only for a moment, he felt safe from those prying eyes. Whoever this person was, whatever he wanted, he couldn't hurt him here.

Now, the only thing he had left to do was—

"Light!"

The teen's breath was forced out of him as a pink blur tackled him. Said blur was far too small to knock him down, but was more than enough to send him stumbling back into the door. "Hey," he protested, "are you trying to kill me?"

"Big brother!" an excited voice squealed happily. "You're home!"

A grin found its way onto Light's face. It had been far too long. "It's good to see you, Sayu. I've missed you."

Bright brown eyes stared up at him excitedly. "I'm so excited you've come to visit us! Ever since you took that internship program thing, we haven't seen you at all!"

"Yeah," Light said with an amused chuckle, "sorry about that. They haven't let me have a phone in the workplace, and I'm working so much that when I get home, I just collapse. I haven't had any time at all to email you or talk on the phone with you."

Sayu's lips drew into a pout. "I noticed, you meanie! You could have spared five minutes for me, yeah?"

"I'll make it up to you," Light promised. "I'll take you out for ice cream the next time I visit, okay?"

"Why not now? You're here, right? You have time!"

"Not enough of it, unfortunately." Light reached a hand down and ruffled Sayu's hair affectionately. Of all the people he'd ever known, Sayu was one of the only ones he'd ever felt any genuine affection for. Seeing her now, after so long apart, made his heart swell with unparalleled joy. "I'm only here for a brief visit. Next time, though, I promise I'll plan ahead so we can spend some time together."

"Aww, okay," Sayu relented. "But you have to promise, okay?"

"Of course. I promise, Sayu."

Sayu smiled up at him, that bright smile that never failed to cheer him up. Her arms finally released him, and Light was able to draw in a much-needed breath. "Okay, deal! Now come on, mom is waiting in the kitchen!"

Light allowed himself to be pulled forward by the hand, tugged towards the kitchen. In a matter of moments they were through the doorway, and Light felt another surge of happiness as he saw his mother for the first time in months.

Sachiko turned on heel upon hearing the commotion, and the instant she saw her son, her eyes lit up. "Light, dear! It's so good to see you!" Sayu ducked out of the way just in time for Sachiko to pull Light into a hug, avoiding being caught up in the middle.

"Good to see you too, mom." Light carefully disentangled himself from her embrace, feeling even more sore after having the breath squeezed out of him twice in the span of as many minutes. "It's been a while."

"I swear," Sachiko sighed, hands still gripping Light's arms affectionately, "you should never have taken that internship. I don't know what your father was thinking, letting you go."

"Speaking of which, where is father?" Light asked, watching as Sachiko moved back to the stove, where a pot of water was boiling. "I haven't seen him today."

"Oh, he's off doing who knows what. He had the day off today, but he still ended up going out."

Light sighed deeply. "Of course he did." That was how it always was. His father worked constantly, always at work and never at home, and even in his free time he went back to his job. _And after he fought so hard for me to come home, too…does he actually care, or is he just doing this because he feels like he should actually care about his son?_ "Do you know if he'll be back in the next few hours?"

"I'm afraid I'm not sure," Sachiko replied. She swept over to one of the cabinets and fished a box of tea leaves from the bottom shelf. "You'll be wanting jasmine, I assume?"

Light gave a nod in response, but his eyes weren't on his mother. Instead, he was glancing around the kitchen, noticing all the little things that weren't working correctly. The table wobbled when Sayu leaned on it. The cabinet hinges shrieked in protest when they were forced to move. The faucet dripped unless the handle was turned just right. There was a crack in the window that seemed to have expanded since he'd last seen it. He felt an eye twitch in irritation. This was his father's job, to make sure the house was taken care of while Sachiko worked on raising Sayu, and—up until a few months ago—him. But it was obvious that Soichiro hadn't been doing a thing about the way the house was beginning to show its age. It wasn't a bad place by any stretch of the imagination, but still…all these little things screamed at him, speaking volumes about just where Soichiro's head had been in the past few months.

Sayu seemed to notice his irritated expression, for she was swift to change the subject. "So, how's the internship program been treating you?"

"It's fine," Light responded. "The guy I'm working with is a real handful, but we get on just fine."

"Is he cute?"

"Sayu!" Light gasped, feigning horror. "How could my innocent little sister bear to ask me such a thing?"

She grinned devilishly. "Come on, you gotta tell me! What's he like?"

He didn't even know where to begin trying to describe L to Sayu. But he took comfort in knowing that no matter what he said, neither his mother nor Sayu would think any less of him. After all, they were the only two (other than L himself) that knew his secret—the reason he'd never spared so much as a glance at the countless girls who'd thrown themselves his way over the years. "God, Sayu, I don't know! He's…I don't know, eccentric? One of those mad genius types."

"Ooh, so he's _smart!"_ Sayu exclaimed excitedly. "Just your type, Light!"

"I swear, you're ridiculous," Light said in an amused tone. "You haven't gone one day since third grade without trying to pair me up with someone."

"Does he have short hair? No, wait—I bet he's grown it out just like you like, hasn't he? Is that why you like him?"

"You think I like him because of his _hair?"_ Light asked, dumbfounded. "It's a lot more than that, you know!"

"Ha! So you _do_ like him!"

Light stared, mouth hanging open. Had his own sister just outwitted him? Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't that surprising. He couldn't seem to think straight where L was involved.

Sachiko, now in the process of preparing tea with the pot of boiling water on the stove, let out that tinkling laugh of hers that lit up the room. "She's got you there, Light." She passed a cup of tea to the teen. "Just who is this mystery man, anyways?"

What had L asked him to call him when they first met? Oh, yes, he remembered. "His name is Rue, and he's the detective I've been assigned to."

"But I was right about the hair, right?"

Light narrowed his eyes at his sister. "It's shaggy at best."

"What about his eyes? Are they blue, or green, or something different?"

"Sayu, I'm not going to describe every bit of him to you!"

"I didn't ask about _everything,_ just his hair and his eyes!"

Pursing his lips, Light replied, "They're dark, like his hair. And that's _all_ I'll tell you!" He was more than aware that describing L in any way, even to his own family, could be dangerous.

Sachiko passed a cup of tea to Sayu, then took a sip of her own. "Just make sure he treats you well, dear. I would hate for you to make things awkward between you and the man you'll be working with for the next couple of months."

"I know what I'm doing," the teen murmured, unnerved. He took a long sip of his tea to avoid having to say more. "So, what have you been up to?"

Sachiko opened her mouth to respond, but before she could do so much as get a word out, Sayu was bubbling on excitedly. "You wouldn't believe it!" she squealed. "I actually managed to get a B in math, and I had the second highest grade in my class on the last test! And there's this new kid at school too, and I don't remember his name, but he's adorable! Oh, and Hideki Ryuga is going to be in that new movie, and I'm totally going to see it, and you should too! And I started this amazing new show, Light, you'd love it! Remember when we used to sit together and watch new episodes of whatever we were watching at the time? Well, when you get back from this internship, we have to sit down and watch _all_ the episodes, because there's magic, and dragons, and flying cats, and _talking_ cats, and guilds, and—!"

That warmth in his heart swelled drastically as Light listened to his sister go off on one of her rants, as she did when she got too excited. _It's peaceful,_ he thought, gaze swinging from his sister to his mother, who was watching Sayu with a proud smile. _It's just like things were before I discovered the Death Note. It's just like things were before I became involved with L._ A pang of sadness tore through him, and for just a moment he almost began to regret _everything—_ but then he shook his head lightly, clearing the unwelcome thoughts, and returned himself to the present. It didn't matter what was in the past. What mattered was the new path he was forging with L, and the new world they would create together.

Light shuddered at the thought, unable to stop himself from shaking. _A new world…it sounds too much like the old me. L…whatever you're planning, I hope it doesn't lead us to that bleak future._

†††

The next few hours passed just as peacefully, only interrupted when Light found himself fighting unpleasant thoughts of his current situation. Sayu seemed thrilled to have her brother back, even if it was only for a day, and Sachiko seemed equally pleased to be able to speak with her son as she hadn't for months. But unfortunately, all good things had to end, and this was no exception. It wasn't long until Light was standing back on the steps of his childhood home with his family at his side, Soichiro excluded. He'd never returned home.

"Do you really have to go?" Sayu whined sadly, arms wrapped around his middle like a pair of boa constrictors. Her face was pressed into his shirt, muffling her voice. "I miss you, big brother…"

"Sorry," he apologized, and he meant it. "But Rue will have my head if I'm not back soon to keep working on this case we've been trying to crack." He turned his gaze on his mother, who looked just as sullen as Sayu did. "Don't worry," he assured them weakly, "I'll come back as soon as I can, and I promise I'll help you out with fixing a few things around the house. That is, provided father hasn't done it already by the time I return."

"You know he won't," Sayu grumbled, so low that only Light could hear. "He never does. It's always been us."

Light threaded his fingers through her hair, pretending he hadn't heard. "It'll be okay, Sayu. Just…keep studying, and maybe you can get that A in math by the time I come back, yeah?"

That cheered her up. She finally released him, returning to Sachiko's side with a watery smile. "You got it, Light! I won't let you down!"

"I know you won't." Light accepted a brief hug from Sachiko, then another from Sayu, before stepping off the porch and onto the walkway leading to the streets beyond. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"Bye!" Sayu called as he turned away. "Come back soon, Light!"

The teen waved back at her. Then, refusing to let himself break down and decide to stay, he took off down the street.

He walked in silence for a few moments, just until he was out of eyesight. Then he paused, looking around with trepidation. He was searching for that flash of movement, that hint of scarlet that had followed him from headquarters. But after a few moments, when he was unable to detect anything but the quiet sounds of his neighborhood, he decided that whoever the person was, he'd left. Good. Now Light would be able to do what he _really_ wanted to do. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that he'd spent about five hours with his family. That was unfortunate—he'd told L two hours tops. But now that he was this late, he might as well treat himself. And there was somewhere he'd been wanting to go for quite a few days now.

Light circled around the back of his house and climbed over the fence with ease. Making sure he was away from the windows, he snuck over to the well-trodden pathway leading into the forest. Then, without even the slightest consideration for what could happen to him if that person found him while he was isolated and alone, he zipped into the forest.

_I'll be fine,_ he told himself as he walked the path he knew so well. _Whoever that person is—if there actually is a person—they don't know the forest like I do. Even if they follow me, I can outrun them and get them lost. This place is like a maze, after all._

It didn't take him long to find the clearing. It was still early, only three in the afternoon, so the entire place was lit just the way he liked it. Light strolled casually to the center of the clearing, shoving his hands into his pockets and craning his neck to stare at the cloudless sky. It was so sunny, so warm…it pierced straight through to his core. He closed his eyes and let the sun strike him at full force. It had been so long since he'd felt this way…this _free_. He cared for L deeply, he truly did, but not even the affection he felt for the detective could take the place of the enjoyment he felt from being in this place. It was so peaceful. So serene. So…

Light froze.

He'd heard it. Somewhere behind him, at the edge of the clearing, a twig had snapped. It could have been an animal, but no…there was nothing big enough to create that loud of a sound in this forest. His entire form tensed, muscles locked and prepared to take action in self-defense. If he had to fight this intruder, whoever he was, he wouldn't hesitate. But still…with every move he made, Light's entire body ached. It wasn't too bad, not after the previous night's rest, but it was enough to put him at a disadvantage. If whoever was here was strong, then he could be in serious danger.

Trying to remain calm and appear oblivious, Light started to move for the fallen tree. He would climb over it, crouch on the other side, and arm himself with whatever he could find. In a place like this, it would probably be a branch, but it was better than nothing. He kept his movements smooth and nonchalant as he walked. Just a little further, he knew. Just a bit more, and he would be as safe as he could possibly be. At the very least he'd have something at his back that wasn't his pursuer. He reached it, then—hands reached out and pressed to the trunk of the tree, and he prepared himself to climb over.

"Not so fast, princess."

Light's blood ran cold as the voice sounded in a low growl, inches from his ear. His heart was beating out of control as he realized that he could quite possibly have just walked into a very nasty situation. His eyes searched for an out, some kind of escape—but as he stood, cornered between the tree and the mysterious voice, he found that he had no way of escape.

He was trapped.


	27. The Seven of Wands Reversed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beyond is my favorite character; I can't wait to finally have him around more often in this story! And as a quick warning, there's a bit more sexual content in this chapter. Like I've said before, feel free to skip it. It adds nothing to the plot of the story.
> 
> Thanks for the support, as always!

"I can tell you're thinking of running. You shouldn't. If you do, it will only make things more difficult."

A chill ran up Light's spine. This was not a kind person. If he wanted to escape, he'd have to fight. All his muscles tensed as one as he prepared to whirl around and lash out with all his strength.

"You're about to attack me."

Once again, Light was stopped in his tracks.

"I wouldn't advise it. You're still weak from what happened when you attacked that criminal, remember? Not to mention the soreness you must be feeling from what you and L have been up to over the past few days."

"W-what?" Light rasped. "How did you…?"

There was a long pause. Then that presence drew back swiftly, and Light realized that the person was no longer standing directly behind him. He still found himself reluctant to turn, though, fearing that the person may become upset and attack him if he did. He wasn't exactly in top physical condition, and doubted that he would be able to fight the man off.

"You can relax," the voice assured him calmly. That menacing rasp was still there, but it had been lessened now in favor of a softer tone. "I haven't spent the past few weeks trying to get you alone just to kill you."

He didn't feel very assured by the statement. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"If I wanted you dead, I would have slaughtered you the instant you stepped into this forest. You wouldn't have known what hit you."

"I still don't trust—"

The voice cut him off. "Then turn and face me. Perhaps you'll understand once you see my face."

Still feeling reluctant, Light hesitated to turn around. A part of him feared what he would see, while the other part screamed with curiosity. Who was this person? Why was he so confident? How did he know L? How did he know what Light had been doing for the past few weeks? And just why had he been trying to contact him in that time? "Fine…" Light whispered shakily. "I'll face you." He turned slowly on heel, eyes closed tightly. After only a moment, he found himself facing the man, eyes closed. Still, he waited.

"Well?" the man chuckled. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

_I am not afraid of you._ Light's hands clenched into fists. Then, all at once, he forced his eyes open.

And he had no way to explain what he saw.

"L…?" he whispered, though his logical mind told him that it wasn't possible.

"Look again, princess."

The teen gritted his teeth at the pet name. But he obeyed, and when he did, he saw what it was that set this man apart from L. It was his eyes. Blood red and practically glowing in the shadows of the fallen tree, they pierced the curtain of shaggy hair and cut straight through to Light's very soul. "Your eyes…"

The man raised a hand to his face, fingertips tapping in rhythm at the flesh beneath his left eye. "Rather unfortunate, aren't they? So ugly, and so different. They certainly make it easy to pick me out of a crowd, wouldn't you say?"

Light was speechless. This man…he looked exactly like L, but with scarlet eyes. The resemblance was uncanny. It was _frightening._

"Speechless?" The man flicked his hair out of his eyes smoothly, those red eyes shining even more intensely now that they were no longer obscured by a curtain of black. "I don't blame you, of course. L was startled the first time he saw me as well."

"Are you his twin?" Light blurted out, feeling foolish the instant the words left his lips.

"Of course I'm not. I merely look like him; we're not related by blood."

The teen nodded, still unsure what to make of the whole situation. "Why are you here?" he asked finally. "How did you find me?"

"Hmm…why am I here?" the man repeated.

"No, wait—" Light cut him off. "First tell me your name."

The man raised a brow. "Ooh, that's classified information, princess. I can't tell you that. After all, if I did, you'd be able to kill me."

Fear. It was a cold spike driven straight through his chest, and he hated it. "What?" he breathed. "I don't…"

"You don't understand how I know who you _really_ are?" The man began moving, circling him like a predator about to pounce. "I _did_ say I'd been watching you. Don't think I haven't noticed what you've been up to."

"I'm not—"

He clicked his tongue condescendingly. "Now, now, none of that. It didn't work on L, and it won't work on me."

Light's head dipped towards the earth, hiding his eyes. He wouldn't let the man see how much his words had shaken him. "If you won't give me your name, at least give me your alias. I'm sure you have one."

"Hmm…" He paused. "For our intents and purposes, you may call me Beyond. Whether that's an alias or part of my real name is for you to decide.

_Beyond._ A strange name for a strange man. "Okay then, Beyond. Tell me why you're here."

Beyond stopped at his back so that Light could no longer see him. "It's nothing nefarious, I can assure you. I've come here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and it is not to do you any harm. Dearest Lawli would have my head if I laid a hand on you, and I'm not sure even I could escape the full strength of his wrath. In fact, the only reason I live right now is because of a deal we made many years ago. If not for that, then I have no doubt that he would have written my name by now."

_This man knows about the Death Note. This is bad…how truly dangerous is he?_ "One purpose, huh? Care to enlighten me?"

Beyond's shoes crunched the fallen leaves as he stepped towards the teen. Hot breath rolled across Light's neck, fingertips ghosting across his shoulders as Beyond drew uncomfortably close. "My purpose? Why, I'm here to warn you, of course."

Light's mind went momentarily blank. Warn him? That certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Warn me against what, exactly?"

"That detective you've aligned yourself with…"

Every word sent shivers down Light's spine. He shook uncontrollably, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to curb the instinctual tremors.

"…he's going to be the death of you." And just like that, the presence withdrew, and Beyond was back in front of him.

"The death of me?" Light echoed. "No, that can't be right."

"It's true." Those red eyes stared down at him, cold and emotionless. "I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but that _monster_ you've taken a liking to will lead to your death, whether he knows it or not."

Light's heart pounded at double its normal speed. Just what did Beyond know of such things? "I have no reason to believe you. For all I know, you hate L, and you're trying to get me to turn against him so you can use me."

Silence. Then, "How I feel about L matters not. What matters is that right now, as things stand, you're on a direct collision course with him. And if you keep your current path, if you don't take evasive maneuvers to avoid crashing into him, he'll leave you broken and bleeding, and he'll never look back."

"We're not going to—"

"Listen to me. L only cares about you right now because he thinks he can twist you, use you for his own needs. Just look at how he's used you already—exploiting you to get a confession out of Misa, using you as a buffer between him and the task force, forcing you to play the role of creator in a world you don't truly want to create…the list goes on. He's doing nothing but using you, princess, and if you don't put a stop to it, he'll use you up and throw you out."

"That's completely absurd." _L cares about me…right?_

"Tell me something. Has he started pressuring you yet? Has he started asking you to do things you don't think are right? Things that dance on the border between justice and treachery?"

Light's breath caught in his throat. He remembered suddenly how L had urged him to create a new world with him, even though he was against it. He remembered how L had tried to persuade him to use the Death Note to set up the scenario in which Rem was killed.

"And tell me something else as well. Has he lied to you?"

"Of course he hasn't—"

Beyond cut him off yet again. "Have things happened that you can't explain? And when you ask him about those things, are his excuses flimsy and weak?"

Teeth closing down on his bottom lip, Light remembered the way all those officers had dropped dead right before Misa was taken into custody. It hadn't been her doing, and it hadn't been him…but L had refused to admit that it was him, even thought he evidence pointed in that direction.

"Lastly, and most importantly…has he lost his temper with you yet?"

The back of Light's head throbbed sympathetically. He recalled those moments in which L's temper snapped, in which he hurt him without thinking.

"Tell me that he hasn't, and I will leave this place and never return."

The teen found himself unable to respond. It was _L_ he was talking about, he should rise to his defense…but something was holding him back. _No…no, it doesn't matter. I'll help him get over all of this, I'll help him become a better person. I can_ help _him._

"Tell me, princess."

Light turned his head away.

Lips drawing up in a snarl, Beyond's hands shot out, gripping Light by the shoulders. " _Tell me!"_

The teen's gaze snapped up to meet his in shock, and he found himself unable to pull away. Those scarlet eyes locked him in place, made it impossible to think, to move, to function.

Thankfully, Beyond held him for only a few moments. Then his grip relaxed, and though he didn't look away quiet yet, those eyes softened in defeat. "You can't, can you?" he sighed. Then he really did draw away, entire form radiating weariness. "I suspected as much. No, I've _seen_ as much."

The instant Beyond's intense eyes left him, Light gained his strength back. "I'll help him," he ground out with forced courage. "Everything that you've pointed out doesn't matter, because I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen again. We've already discussed those things and we're going to change them."

Now it was Beyond's turn to look pained. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yeah? Well how would you know? You may look like L, but I doubt you know half as much about him as you think you do!"

His head tilted to one side, expression twisting bitterly. "You think you know him?"

_We've become closer than you know, freak. We're a hell of a lot closer than the two of you have ever been—of that I can be certain._ "I know him better than you think."

"Then ask him."

"Ask him…?"

"Ask him what happened fifteen years ago."

"What does that mean?"

Beyond turned his gaze skyward. When his eyes returned to Light, his expression had softened considerably. "He'll know what you mean. If he's forgotten even that, then he's more far gone than I thought."

A flicker of defensiveness brought Light's anger back to life. "He's not far gone at all," he protested. "You're the one that doesn't know what you're talking about." Nails bit into his palms. "He cares about me."

"He cares about you?"

Light forced out a nod.

For a moment, Beyond did nothing but fix him with that intense stare. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping so that he looked even more like L. "If that is truly the case, then know that I pity you."

"Why would you pity me?"

"Easy…" he laughed humorlessly. "Up until now, all of the people L cares about have ended up dead by his own hand."

Light's whole world slowed. "What…?"

"I just thought you should know that none of the people who have called L their friend have lived to tell the tale."

"No…no, that can't be true…I don't believe you! You don't know anything!"

The look that Beyond shot him was both condescending and pitying. "You want proof? Then I'll give it to you. You have Misa in your custody, correct?"

"Yes, we do…she'll be sent to court any day now for her trial."

"She will die of a heart attack before that ever happens. Or if not before, then immediately after."

Light steeled himself. "No she won't, because L and I won't kill her."

"L isn't going to leave you a choice." He smiled, and just like his laugh, it was devoid of happiness. "I'm going to tell you what's going to happen, here and now. First, you will go to L and make him promise not to kill Misa because you truly don't believe she deserves death. Then her case will be passed through court. She will be sentenced to death, or at the very least, life in prison. But before her sentence is carried out, she will die of a heart attack. You'll run to L, begging him to tell you that it wasn't him, because he _promised_ you that he wouldn't kill her. And he'll tell you what you want to hear—that he didn't do it. He'll insist that it wasn't him, and he'll say that it was whoever's stolen your notebook, even though that's impossible and he knows it. The thief has no reason to kill Misa, and you certainly won't have been the one to kill her…so where does that leave us? You'll know that it was L, but he will never admit it. And when that happens, you'll finally understand what kind of a person he is. He's _evil._ He may say that he cares for you, but he doesn't even know _how_ to care for another person. He just thinks he does. In the end, you'll be left behind like all the others."

"L…told me that there weren't any others…"

"He doesn't remember them."

Light's head snapped up. "He doesn't _remember?"_

"That little detective of yours is quite good at forgetting that which is inconvenient or painful to remember. The truth is, there have been many people who have claimed the title of his friend. But after he got them all killed, he simply washed away their existence and decided they'd never been real to begin with. I don't know if you've noticed this, but he's quite good at justifying his own actions and then forgetting just why he had to justify them in the first place."

"I don't believe you. L wouldn't do that." But he would, wouldn't he? Light had seen more than enough evidence of that.

"I suppose I can't expect you to believe me just yet. But when Misa's death comes to pass, I hope you will give me the opportunity to find you again. Then, and only then, can we discuss what we should do to end L's reign of terror."

"I'll never—!"

Beyond had already turned away. "Farewell, princess." He started moving for the edge of the clearing, hands tucked into his pockets.

"And that's another thing!" Light spat after him furiously. "Stop calling me princess!"

Beyond stopped in his tracks. Then, a long moment later, he threw a long, thoughtful glance over his shoulder.

"What?" the teen snapped.

A tiny chuckle. Then, "You remind me of him."

"Who?"

His gaze soured. "Just…just an old friend."

Light opened his mouth to ask for further details, to wonder just who Beyond was talking about. But by the time his lips began to form the first syllable, the man had slipped back into the shadows from which he came.

†††

A few hours later, Light returned to headquarters. He felt thoroughly shaken by what had happened with Beyond. All the information he'd learned…all the hatred he'd felt rolling off the older man…all the questions he'd left unanswered…

What was worse, even through his previous conviction he was beginning to feel a flicker of doubt. Was L really lying to him? Was he trying to manipulate him? And just what had happened fifteen years ago?

There was a part of Light that wanted to barge straight into the room he shared with L and demand answers. But his more logical warned him that should he do such a thing, he'd have to explain just what had happened in the forest…and something was nagging at him, telling him that that wasn't a good idea. He was dying, burning with curiosity. But even so, he knew that to simply come out and ask L about all his doubts would be a mistake.

And so, as Light slowly ascended the steps to the entrance to headquarters, he made a decision. He decided that no matter what happened, he would wait for Misa's fate to be decided before acting. If she truly died as Beyond predicted, then he would speak with L about his true intentions. He would confront him. But until then, he would remain silent. He would wait for L to prove himself.

He would not intervene.

Or at least, he would try not to.

"Welcome back, Light."

The teen's head jerked up, surprised. He'd barely gotten two steps into the main hall before L had come to welcome him. "L…" he greeted, still feeling slightly dazed.

The detective frowned, clearly sensing that something was amiss. "I saw you approaching on the cameras and decided to greet you. Is something wrong? You seem troubled."

Images of Beyond flickered through Light's mind like a dying flame. "N-no…" he managed to sputter out, mind still back in the forest. "It's nothing, L, really."

He didn't seem convinced. "If something is bothering you, you should tell me." He took a step forward. The detective was now standing a mere few feet away from him, and while it was obvious he wanted to move closer, he did nothing but stare. Perhaps he too could feel the tension polluting the air.

"Really, it's not a big deal." Light forced a smile, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to slow his racing mind. He needed to calm down, take a few steps back. "It was just a bit strange to be back with my family, that's all. I really have missed them."

"I see."

There was a pause, in which the two did nothing but stare.

Then, "Light, are you quite sure nothing is wrong?"

At first, the teen didn't respond. He simply stared up at the man he'd come to care for. He took it all in—the dark eyes, the messy hair, the slouch, the shadows stretched across his skin. Then, fighting a strange burn at the backs of his eyes, he crossed the remaining few steps between them and wrapped his arms firmly around the detective. He pressed his cheek into the coarse white fabric of L's shirt.

"Light?" L inquired, sounding confused as he raised his arms to return the sudden embrace.

The teen's eyes slipped closed as he let the rumble of L's voice sooth his nerves. _That's right…_ this _is the person I care for. All of those horrible things Beyond said about him…all of the things he's done…all of the times he's lied…it's not right, but it's not going to happen any more. I'm here, I won't let him kill anyone else who doesn't deserve it. He won't lay a hand on Misa, and he certainly won't begin to eliminate all criminals. He won't become Kira. Not truly, at least._ Light realized that L was still waiting for a response, and had been for quite a few moments. He laughed quietly, shaking his head against the detective's chest. "I'm glad to be back here."

"It's only been a day, you know."

Light pulled back slightly so he could look up into L's dark eyes. "And I told you I'd only be gone for two hours. Sorry about that, I got a bit carried away talking to Sayu."

"No," L said, sill looking slightly concerned at Light's strange behavior. "There's no need to apologize. There hasn't been much to do anyways, not while we wait for the court's ruling on Misa's case."

Of course…all the evidence had been sent to the ICPO, who had immediately passed it on to the courts. It was only a matter of time before Misa was sentenced to death. Light couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, he hadn't even seen her one last time before she was removed from the building the previous night. It felt almost as if he were leaving a loose string untied, letting something go that he shouldn't. But it was far too late to do anything about it now. Misa would be given the death sentence for what she'd done, even if she refused to confess. If she had any semblance of intelligence, she'd relinquish possession of the Death Note and remove her memories before she did something foolish. But even if she did such a thing, Light knew it was already too late. L's evidence was damning. Still, though… "What will happen to Misa?" he asked suddenly.

L removed himself from Light's embrace gently, gesturing towards the elevator. "Come with me," he said, ignoring the question. "If we're going to talk, let's do it somewhere more comfortable."

"You're not dragging me into bed again," Light warned. "I'm sore enough, thank you very much."

A grin plucked at the corners of L's mouth as he chuckled, "I wouldn't dream of it. But there are numerous other ways to have fun."

_"No,"_ Light insisted firmly. "Talk first, fun later."

"Fine, fine…let's go."

The next few minutes passed in a blur, until they'd reached their destination. It seemed L had led them to one of the many lounges the building contained. Taking a look around, Light saw that this one was smaller than the rest, feeling quite a bit more private and cozy than the rest he'd seen while walking around the building. It looked just like a normal living room, making him question just why L had this room constructed in the first place. What was its purpose?

"It's just meant for relaxation," L said, answering his unspoken question. "Even I need to have a bit of down time every once and a while."

Light glanced around at his surroundings as L led him further inside. The room contained in its center a very soft-looking couch that beckoned Light's tired form towards it relentlessly. Off to one corner, a small wooden table and two chairs stood firm, feet digging into the plush black carpet that covered the entire room. And lastly, across the far wall, a massive window took up a ridiculous amount of space. Red drapes covered it currently, stopping anyone from being able to look either in or out, but Light knew that he would be able to see a fantastic view of the city should he remove them. But now, all they did was shield that amazing view and darken the room so that the only thing keeping it lit was a lamp in the corner opposite the table. If Light hadn't known any better, he might have called it mood lighting from the way the dull orangey glow was rolling off the furniture, casting long shadows over the entire room.

"Sit with me," L requested, and when Light turned his head, he saw that the detective had already settled himself on the couch—and surprisingly, he was sitting normally.

"Quite the dramatic scene you've set," Light said somewhat nervously, making his way over to the couch and collapsing onto it. "Trying to seduce me, are you?"

The detective hummed noncommittally, reaching out an arm to wrap around Light's shoulders and pull him firmly against his side. "Perhaps."

"Well, it won't work until you answer me, got it? Now tell me—what's going to happen to Misa?"

Another hum. Then, "You know the answer to that already, Light. We've already said that once the courts condemn her, she'll be killed. There's no way around it."

It was true; they'd had this conversation before. They'd both spoken of Misa's death with such carelessness. But now… "I don't think she deserves it," he whispered.

L's dark eyes seemed even darker as the dim light made them flicker captivatingly. "What are you saying? She's killed people who didn't deserve it, those not already sentenced to death."

_Why do you call_ her _a monster when you've done the same?_ "Yes," he said carefully, "but she thought she was doing the right thing. I just…I don't think she deserves death for what she did. After all, all she was trying to do was copy Kira. She just got it a little wrong, that's all."

"I don't understand where this is coming from." L was displeased, that much was quite obvious. "You don't like Misa. You have no reason to care about her life."

"She's innocent," Light insisted. "I told you, I don't want her to die out of a misunderstanding."

"There is no misunderstanding. She killed innocent people, and now she will pay."

"But L—" _You've killed innocent people, too._

"That's _enough."_ The detective's fingertips bit into Light's shoulder just enough to make him flinch. The teen immediately fell silent, not wanting to provoke another one of L's fits of anger. "You seem to be forgetting that it is not our place to question the decisions of the legal system. If the courts declare her deserving of death, then it is not our place to question them."

"No,"Light whispered, "it _is_ our place to question them. It is our duty to challenge them, to make sure their decisions are just and fair, to make sure they never make the wrong choice. If we don't stand to face them, question their every move, then who will keep them on their toes, constantly making sure that they do everything in their power to make the right decision? It is our place to question—but it is not our place to take the law into our own hands if we disagree."

Those dark eyes narrowed in irritation. "I told you, that's enough. Question them all you want, but that's not going to change their decision. Once Misa's sentence has been determined, she will die."

Light's teen clamped down on his tongue to stop himself from snapping at the detective. The grip on his arm was becoming painful, and he didn't want it to get worse. He had lost this battle. But still…there was one thing he could do.

The exact thing Beyond predicted he'd do.

"Promise me something, then," Light breathed, barely audible. "Promise me that when Misa's sentence is decided, you won't kill her. Let her be executed, and not by your hand."

"She'll die either way. What's the difference?"

"I…" _I don't know._ "Just…just promise me that much, L. If you do, I won't bother you about this any further."

L fixed him with a suspicious expression, but it was only a matter of moments before he relented. "Very well," he conceded, head dipping slightly in agreement. "I will not kill her."

"Promise me."

"I don't know why this is so important to—"

" _Promise."_

A pause. Then, "Very well. I promise."

"And let me see your hands so I know your fingers aren't crossed."

That brought a smile to L's lips, washing away the dark currents of anger. He showed the teen both hands, saying again, "I promise. Now, are you happy?"

"It's enough," Light responded, unable to lie and say he was entirely pleased with the situation.

"Good. Now…"

Light yelped as a pair of arms closed around him, forcing him back against the cushions playfully. He made to roll over and get up, but he found himself caged between two determined arms, fingers curling around his wrists and holding him in place. "Hey!" he protested. "L!"

"Hmm…remember when you asked me if I was trying to seduce you?"

Light squirmed as insistent fingers tightened around his wrists—there'd be bruises for sure this time. "I told you I didn't want—" His breath caught in his throat as sharp teeth nipped at his collarbone, taking his words away by force.

"Well…" L's words were muffled against his neck, where he busied himself with those tiny nips and licks, each one harder than the last. "You couldn't have been more correct."

"Told you…" Light sighed as his arms rose subconsciously to wrap around the detective atop him. His fingers threaded through that raven hair, pulling him closer. "I'm too sore for this, L."

"And _I_ told _you,"_ the detective shot back, drawing back slightly, "that there are other ways to entertain ourselves while we wait for Misa to be sentenced to death."

Light winced. "Do me a favor and don't mention her name while we're like this."

"If that is what you wish." L moved his lips higher, brushing teasingly against his neck.

"No…" Light groaned, though every part of him was screaming _yes._ If L left any visible reminder of what was happening that far up on his neck, his collar wouldn't cover it. His father was sure to see.

Teeth grazed over unbroken skin in an almost threatening manner. "Should I mark you here?" L purred, teeth applying greater pressure. Light felt the sharp canines pressing in firmly, sending a sharp sting pulsing beneath the skin. "Not even those collared shirts you like to wear so much will cover it if I do."

The teen shivered. As always, L knew exactly what he was thinking. "They'll see!" he protested.

"Let them see." L pulled back, and Light felt heat begin to churn deep within him as he saw the possessive gleam in those shining eyes. "They can't do anything about it. You chose _me."_

Even if he'd tried to protest further, even if he'd tried to pull away, Light could sense that L would have none of it. All he could do was twist and whimper beneath his tormentor as he did as he pleased with him.

Those sharp teeth returned to his neck, biting down gently, stirring something warm and pleasurable in Light's core as he filled with anticipation. He strained upwards against his will, practically begging for L to continue. He wanted to feel that claiming fire, that biting possession. He wanted it, was waiting for it—and then, without warning, L's head dipped lower, hovering directly over his shoulder, and those teeth clamped down harshly.

That tiny jolt of pain was immediately replaced by pleasure as the detective's tongue stroked over the sore skin, over and over, repeating in a soothing pattern. Light realized dimly that L had shown him mercy. No one would see the mark he'd left. Even when he was acting so dominant, so confident, he was still thinking of Light's wishes. He valued such compassion.

Those lips worked their way back up slowly, until tiny kisses were being pressed against his cheeks, his forehead, the corners of his mouth. But no matter how close he got, L always seemed to avoid his lips, as if seeing how much he could tease him before he cracked.

Finally, it was too much to take. "L…" Light breathed, flushed and panting. "Come on, just…"

L didn't even let him finish before claiming his lips fiercely. The detective's tongue parted his lips with little opposition and plunged inside, wasting no time in seeking out every part of his mouth in order to taste it. The grip on Light's wrists tightened, a reflection of the way the detective's entire body tensed in anticipation. And when L shifted slightly, twisting his body against Light's in just the right way, he felt that the detective was sporting a rather large problem. The teen strained up against him at the feel of it. He gave a gentle tug at the hands restraining his wrists, wanting to touch, to feel, to strip L of his clothing and admire him in all his glory. Judging by the heated moan the detective gave in response to that tug, he suspected he was feeling the same.

L pulled away, lips gleaming wetly in the dull light, and it was clear that he could take it no longer. His hands shot to the hem of Light's shirt, making to pull it over his head.

"Wait!" Light yelped. "L, I told you, I'm not going to let you—"

The detective stopped his movements, but groaned in frustration. For a moment he was still, clearly trying to choose a new plan of action. Then a lewd grin spread across his face, and it was clear that he'd decided. "Fine," he said. "If you won't let me take you, then let's compromise." Nimble fingers ran down Light's sides, making him gasp as they trailed lower. L's palm settled right over the prominent bulge in his jeans, pressing down firmly but remaining in place. "It feels like you're in the same situation as me," L pointed out, smirking down as Light's features twisted in pleasure. "And we can't very well go on like this. So…"

Light felt his belt being undone, felt fingers hook themselves in his belt loops, but did nothing to stop it as his pants and boxers were tugged to mid-thigh, never leaving his body entirely. "L!" he hissed as he was exposed to the cool air. Despite the fact that they'd seen each other in such a state before, Light couldn't help the blush that spread across his cheeks.

"Embarrassed?" L cooed, fingers tracing his inner thigh, refusing to go any higher. "Would you feel better if I joined you?"

The teen, heeding the implied order, strained against L's grip—which had been reduced to just one hand holding both wrists—once again. This time he escaped without resistance, and it took only a few moments to lower his shaking hands to L's pants and yank them down as far as he could in his current situation. L helped him after a moment, sliding his boxers down to join his jeans.

"There," L purred. "Now…"

A sharp breath tore itself from Light's lungs as those cool fingers finally moved higher, tracing just around the base of his arousal. His lips parted, ready to beg L to touch him if that was what it took—but before he could, L's hand finally, _finally_ curled around him, taking him in his hand firmly. The teen could feel L's intense gaze on him as he slowly tugged his hand upwards, giving his cock one, long stroke. He could only guess what L was seeing, watching him come undone beneath him with only a single stroke of his hand.

A hand closed on his wrist again, and Light watched through hooded eyes as L brought the teen's hand between his legs. "Touch me," he ordered in a husky tone. "We'll take care of each other."

_Oh god…_ Those words sent an unbearable spike of pleasure through Light's stomach. He wasted no time in obeying, wrapping his hand around his former rival and marveling at the feel of him. He was brought back to the real world as L stroked him firmly, the pressure of his hand increasing without mercy. A moan tore itself from his throat violently, so loud that it practically echoed through the room. He could barely force himself to move, could barely make himself begin to return the favor as L continued to work him, wrist twisting slightly and bringing his pleasure to a new high. Light struggled to focus. He had to do this, had to make L feel the same things he was feeling. He forced his eyes to remain open, if only in slits, as he tried to do to L what he liked done to himself. He mimicked it all—the pressure of his hand, the twist of his wrist, the brushing of his thumb across the head. And judging by the sudden gasp he heard from L, he guessed he was doing a good job.

"Mmm…" L moaned in a low tone, not pausing for a moment even as the pleasure assaulted his senses. "You're too good at that, Light…" His words were torn apart by ragged gasps and pants, but Light was still able to understand him. "Just a b-bit faster…"

The teen had not the breath to respond verbally, instead focusing his energy on obeying his detective's command. His entire body was shaking, so much so that it was difficult to keep up the pace of his hand, let alone increase it. But still, he forced his fingers to tighten, forced his pace to quicken until L's features were overcome with lust. A dark flush colored those pale cheeks, those pink lips hung open as he panted. The teen managed a tiny smile at the positively lewd look he was receiving from L, then cried out as the detective suddenly gripped him tighter, pace increasing to match that which Light had set. His cock was leaking now, tiny beads of liquid escaping to meet with the skin of L's hand, and Light felt that coil deep within him wind tighter and tighter in preparation for its end.

"L!" Light gasped, no longer able to keep back the series of pants and moans that soon escaped him. "If you keep that up, I'll…!"

"Then do it," L purred, voice thick with the anticipation of his own impending release. "I want to see you come undone."

The detective's words pushed him even closer to the edge, and as L's pace only seemed to increase with every stroke of his hand, Light could hold back no longer. His cheeks blazed, mouth remaining open in a long, drawn out moan as the coil within him snapped and he came explosively. His hand stilled on L's dripping cock as pleasure overwhelmed his mind.

L chuckled hoarsely, clicking his tongue. "Now look what you've done, Light…you've gotten our clothing dirty." As he spoke, two fingers trailed through the sticky white substance that now clung to his shirt.

The teen whimpered in response, barely coherent. How was it that L always managed to make him feel so unbelievably good?

Light was drawn back to the real world as L's hips pressed forward meaningfully, pressing into his hand, which was still loosely wrapped around his cock. "Light," he growled, and the teen could tell that he was barely restraining himself. "Unless you want me to take you here and now, you'll finish me off."

The teen was almost tempted to agree, to strip himself of his pants entirely and offer himself to the detective. But the more logical part of his mind begged him to say no, begged him to spare himself the pain. _He's done so much for me,_ Light reminded himself, undecided. _I want to repay him for everything._ He looked up at L's flushed face indecisively.

L pressed against him meaningfully. "Light."

There was another moment of uncertainty. Then something clicked, and a smirk spread across Light's face. He jerked upwards, easily able to remove himself from under L's shaking body and turn the tables, forcing the detective onto his back with little effort.

"Light!" the detective snapped, voice a mixture of anger and confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to make you cum," was the crude response. "Isn't that what you wanted."

"Yes, but what—?"

Light scooted lower, hands gripping L's hips for support, and the detective stilled in realization.

"Light," he breathed, "you don't have to do this."

"You want it, don't you?" It wasn't really a question. One look at L's face and anyone could tell that he was dying for it. "I'll make you feel good, L."

The detective gulped. "If…if you're really okay…"

Light shot him a playful grin, though his stomach was knotted in nervousness. "Relax, L. I'll take care of you, I promise." With that, Light lowered his head down, breath rolling over L's cock teasingly. L had been the one to do this to him the last time they'd had sex. Light wanted to try his hand at it. He let his lips fall just slightly apart, and, making sure his grip on L's hips was firm, he pressed down and rested just the tip of L's cock against his lips. Then he lowered himself even further, taking in the first inch and rolling his tongue across the head. It certainly wasn't pleasant, Light decided, but he'd gladly take a bit of discomfort for L's pleasure. He sucked lightly, relishing the broken moan the action earned him, and slowly began to work his lips lower, being careful not to take in too much at once. He'd never done anything like what he was doing now, and didn't want to end up choking himself. After a moment more he felt the head bump the back of his throat, and he immediately got to work, flattening his tongue against the underside of L's arousal and sucking noisily. The detective's hips attempted to buck up into him further, but Light's grip was more than enough to keep himself when he was so weakened by pleasure. The teen slowly began to bob his head, picking up the pace once he became used to the sensation of L's cock striking the back of his throat. He glanced up at L through his lashes and saw that his head was thrown back, lips parted in a soundless cry. Encouraged by his expression, the teen increased the suction of his mouth and moved even faster, one hand leaving L's hips to wrap around what he couldn't take into his mouth.

"M-more…" L slurred, voice thick with pleasure. "Light!"

Light was thoroughly enjoying his moment of domination over the detective. He took a moment longer to tease L, drawing him as deep as he could and taunting him by brushing his tongue lightly over his flesh. The action immediately had L writhing beneath him, an incoherent jumble of syllables spilling from his mouth. The sounds the detective was producing only became more intense as Light relaxed his throat and drew him deeper still, taking all of him into his mouth. He knew that L was close—he could feel the tremors shaking his body, could feel the tensing of his abdominal muscles as he tried to hold back. Light was determined to break his control.

"Light," L tried to warn, though his words were barely decipherable. "I'm going to—!"

The teen didn't even let him finish, forcing L to break off in a long moan as he drew deeply on his arousal, swallowing around him and taking great pride in the way L's entire body shook. He hummed in appreciation—and that one noise, sending vibrations up through L's lower body, was enough to send him over the edge.

L's hands, previously occupied with twisting mindlessly above his head, snapped down to hold Light's head in place as he came. The teen didn't even attempt to draw away, but he knew it would have been useless to try. Instead, he held himself still, still sucking lewdly, and swallowed down as much of L's release as he could before it began to drip from his lips. He ignored the taste, hardly something to be celebrated, in favor of watching L's flushed face.

"Light…" L breathed, hands resting limply on his shoulders.

The teen pulled himself off of L, feeling drops of his release sliding down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. "L," he murmured in return, lips curving into a smile. Now he knew what L had meant when he'd said he wanted to watch him come undone—without a doubt, watching the expression of pure ecstasy overtake L while he trembled beneath him was one of the most incredible things he'd ever seen.

L struggled to raise himself into a sitting position, leaning against the armrest. He reached down and tugged his boxers and pants up over his hips with shaking fingers. "That was…"

"Incredible?" Light guessed cockily, leaning back and copying L's movements. His clothing was dirty, much to his disgust—he'd need to change soon.

"I'd say that's an accurate assessment, yes," L breathed. "You're almost too good."

Then he'd accomplished his mission. Light leaned back against the armrest opposite L, stretching out his legs so they were intertwined with his companion's. He was even more tired than before now, but he didn't care. "And look, L," he practically giggled, "I'm not any more sore than I was a few minutes ago!"

"Smartass," L grumbled, paying no heed to his crude language. He, too, seemed tired—but like Light, he seemed to be fighting sleep in favor of remaining awake. "Get over here."

An arm was offered to Light, and he wasted no time in accepting, falling into L's embrace. The detective turned them with little effort so that Light's back was pressed to his chest and an arm was draped possessively over his waist. "We need to change," Light acknowledged. "We're both filthy."

"Then we should shower, not just change our clothing."

Light caught the playful tone of L's voice, and he immediately shook his head. "Oh, no. No way. I'm too tired to put up with your antics."

"Fine, fine…" L yawned. Light couldn't see it, but he could definitely feel it, just as he could feel the light smile that followed. "Thank you, Light…you're a magnificent lover."

Light's entire form stiffened. " _Lover…?"_

"Would you prefer to be called something else?" L asked, not seeming to grasp just how deeply his words had shaken the teen. "Lover, companion, mate, boyfriend, significant other…?"

Light's heart could have stopped then and there and he wouldn't have noticed. "You think of me like that?" he murmured.

"Hmm? Of course I do. I've told you that, Light."

Yes, he'd told him—but this was the first time he'd really addressed him by anything other than his name. It didn't feel real. "Then…" Light trailed off, hardly able to believe this was happening. "In that case…I think I'm okay with being called your lover."

L hummed again, the vibrations lacing up Light's spine. "Good…now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep for a bit."

"L, you can't! Our clothing!"

"Later…after I wake up…"

"But—!" Light was about to continue protesting, but the slow, even breaths he felt against his neck were clearly those of a sleeping man. _That bastard, leaving me like this!_ He shifted in L's grip momentarily, attempting to twist free so he could change. But he found himself unable to do much of anything.

Slowly, hesitantly, Light twisted his head around so he could see L's sleeping face. _Lover?_ he thought again, the gravity of the word striking him heavily. _So that's what we've become? And he was even willing to call me his boyfriend…_

He couldn't fight the gentle smile that spread across his face. _You were wrong, Beyond. He cares about me. This is the man that I care about. This is the man that I…that I…_

L subconsciously pressed his forehead into Light's back, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like his name.

_This is the man that I love._

But even as he thought it, he wasn't so sure.


	28. The Knight of Pentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally caved and decided to just get this story up to date with the version I'm posting over on fanficiton.net. I'm sure a lot of you know this already, but the one over there is five chapters ahead, so I think it's time to catch this story up. I would have done it sooner, but I'm seriously the laziest person out there and I've just been putting it off forever!
> 
> Well, enjoy!

Beyond didn't return to Near after that fateful conversation with his target. He knew that he should. He knew that he'd gained some valuable information—that his belief that L had drawn Light into his web of deception was correct. It would be best for him to return to England for a short time to convene with his partner, discuss what he'd learned and what their plan of action would be. But still, he didn't. He remained right where he was, looking in on the investigation from afar. He wasn't quite sure why he did it.

No…that was a lie.

Beyond's head turned to his laptop, open on the desk and displaying a live feed of the inside of the task force headquarters. He'd managed to gain access to the cameras—or rather, _Matt_ had managed to gain access to the cameras, and had then promptly given control of them over to him. He had to admit, even if he didn't much care for L's successors, they had their uses from time to time. Now he was able to watch, and for the first time, _listen_ to everything that went on inside headquarters. Not that it did too much good—after all, the only places he was truly interested in were those in which L had removed all cameras and wire taps. For example, his own bedroom—where he spent most of his time with Light, and where most of their strategic discussions were most likely held—remained completely disconnected from the surveillance network. It had been especially frustrating in the past couple of days, in which L and Light had spent a ridiculous amount of time hidden away in their bedroom. It seemed the task force had been sent home for a few days, presumably while they waited for the conviction of the second Kira (or was she the third? Really, how could anyone be expected to keep track of such things?), and in that time, L and Light had rarely left their bedroom. Beyond had no idea what they were up to since he couldn't look in on them, and it was beginning to frustrate him.

Fortunately, it seemed that Light had ventured from the room. L wasn't with him, which was a great surprise. The two seemed to be constantly together now, practically connected at the hip. It was almost frightening.

Beyond watched closely as the teen closed the door to his bedroom behind him and started off towards the kitchen. Despite recently having been told just how terrible of a person L really was, he seemed oddly calm. He wasn't reacting the way Beyond thought he would at all. Based on the way he was acting, it was as if he hadn't really heard anything he'd been told. Funny…Beyond had been certain that being told about L's true nature would shock him into paranoia. The seeds of doubt would be planted, he'd thought, and Light would slowly begin to gravitate away from his destructive lover. But again—it hadn't happened. At least, on the surface. For all Beyond knew, he was in the midst of mental turmoil.

Beyond's teeth dug into his lower lip as he watched Light strolling down the hall to the kitchen. Each floor had one, and since the one he was currently walking into was the one L used most, it was positively filled with sweets. Beyond watched in fascination as Light's nose crinkled in disgust upon seeing the mounds of sugar. The teen immediately opened the massive fridge, no doubt finding several dozen cakes inside, and emerged with an armful of vegetables that had most likely been placed there by Watari in an attempt to make L eat healthier. Despite having been given the cold shoulder by his charge the past few weeks, the old butler still cared for L greatly.

Light began working to prepare what Beyond assumed would be a salad, a sour look flickering across his face whenever he glanced up and saw the copious amounts of sweets piled high on the counters.

_He reminds me of you,_ Beyond thought sadly, watching the teen go about his work. _Now more than ever, he reminds me of you. Not so much in how he looks, but in how he thinks, what he believes in, what he's willing to fight for. You would have loved him. You would have been best friends, if…if you were still alive. If L hadn't killed you._

It hadn't truly struck Beyond how similar Light was to his old friend until he'd come across him in the forest, coming to speak with him for the first time. It hit him like a brick when he finally saw it. Their similarities…it was eerie. Their minds were practically identical. He wondered if L saw any of his qualities in Light, wondered if that was why he'd fallen for him as hard as he had. Perhaps L saw a chance to redeem himself of the events in his past by "saving" someone who was so similar to the boy he'd murdered. But he doubted it. In fact, there was a large part of him that wondered if L even _remembered_ what had happened all those years ago. The detective had always been one to forcefully forget that which did not benefit him directly, and the way he'd murdered someone in cold blood seemed to fit into that category. Or maybe he remembered it and thought what he'd done had been for the greater good. L had always been the master of justification, and this was most likely no exception. Everything he did was for a reason—or so he said.

A tiny yelp drew Beyond's attention to the screen, where Light had cut himself with the knife he was using to chop up the vegetables. The teen cursed loudly and shoved his thumb into his mouth so that he almost resembled L.

_L might not see the similarities,_ Beyond lamented, _but I do. Even if I didn't see it clearly before, I…I think it's definitely one of the reasons I've become so determined to keep you safe._ His fingertips touched the screen lightly as L entered the kitchen, drawn to it by the sound of Light's cry of pain. He watched bitterly as L chastised the teen for being so clumsy, teasing him for yelping so loudly over such a tiny cut.

Beyond's features twisted as he watched the scene. _I couldn't keep you safe the last time, my old friend. I couldn't save you from L. But even if it's too late to change the past, I can at least do something now to change the future. I can save L's next victim, the person who resembles you so greatly. I will make things right. I will not let harm come to anyone_ _because of L's blindness ever again._

_That, at least, I promise you._

†††

Two weeks passed.

The weeks went by, slowly, and Light stayed by L's side without fail. The wait would have been excruciating without the detective there to ease his boredom, to keep his mind occupied. With the task force gone and the whole building to themselves, they could do whatever they wanted. They passed their time in their room for the most part, sitting in bed and playing petty games for entertainment. They'd played at least a hundred games of chess at this point, had spent an incredible number of hours testing each other with riddles and mind games, and had passed several days simply lounging around and talking. Unfortunately for Light, he was never able to steer L in the direction of discussing his childhood in that time. He wanted the detective to tell him about the event from fifteen years ago, wanted him to willingly divulge the information—but no matter how hard he tried to subtly nudge L in the right direction, he always changed the subject and evaded ever answering _anything_ about his early years. Light wasn't even entirely sure where he'd grown up.

At noon on the day that marked a two-week wait for Misa's sentence, the word finally came in—the courts had reviewed Misa's case and come to a verdict. Light remembered how shocked he was when he'd heard they'd made a decision. He'd been laying in bed with L at the time, pondering the events of the past few months, when L's cell went off. When he'd answered it, that normally stoic expression cracked into a victorious grin, and Light knew immediately that something had happened. And when that victorious expression suddenly changed to one of confusion and anger, he knew that something _bad_ had happened. When L hung up and returned to him, he fully expected to receive the worst news of his life. But to his shock, when L told him what had happened, it was almost the _best_ news of his life.

Misa had been convicted, and her punishment was a lifetime in prison.

Light had been stunned. He'd thought for sure that Misa would be given the death sentence, that he'd be attending her execution. Why had she been spared? As it turned out, she'd pled guilty, and a mix of that and her show of remorse for her victims had lessened her sentence. She would never leave jail, but she would at least be allowed to keep her life. It was a massive relief for Light, who thought that Misa wasn't deserving of losing her life. L, on the other hand, was less than pleased. He'd been so angry that he'd stormed out of the room, proceeding to spend the next few hours up on the roof. Light felt sorry for him, but he knew better than to get in L's way when he was having one of his fits of anger. The detective would only end up hurting him again, and he didn't want to have yet another bruise to take care of. He simply waited, and in time, L returned to his side. The first thing he did was call the task force and tell them the news. The second thing he did was groan in exasperation as Light made him promise once more that he wouldn't kill Misa. She'd earned her life, and L would not take it from her.

After that, the task force was ordered to return to work the next day. This was the final stage of L's plan, Light knew. The task force would return and help monitor the number of criminals being killed. When they saw that none were dying, they would assume that Misa was the one manipulating criminals, and that she'd been stripped of her power. The task force would be disbanded, L and Light would break off and start working on eliminating those that deserved death, and when it came to light that Kira was not, in fact, dead, they would tell the task force that they could handle it on their own.

That left Light only one week left in the real world—the week L had decided to wait before dissolving the task force. It was surreal, knowing that he had only a week left to wait before he would leave everything behind for good. He would leave Japan with L, and he didn't know when he'd be coming back. One week…seven short days in which he had to have that fateful conversation with his father and say goodbye to his mother, his sister, and the only home he'd ever known. He would never attend To-Oh University, nor would he ever join the NPA.

He felt as if he were standing in the wake of an impending storm, one that was prepared to sweep them all away.

One week. Seven days.

And then the second part of his journey would be over.

"You're thinking about it again," L murmured, and Light's head snapped over to him. The two were currently in the kitchen under the pretense of taking a break from the investigation for a few minutes. The rest of the task force was hard at work, seeing as it was their first day back. They were determined to find any criminals Kira had killed in the past twenty-four hours. They didn't know that it was impossible that they'd find even a single one.

"I know," Light said quietly. "I can't help it. Just one week, L…"

"There is much to be done." The detective was rummaging through the fridge carelessly, and when he emerged he was holding an entire chocolate cake. Light watched in fascination as he cut himself a massive slice of the sugary dessert and placed it onto a plate normally meant to hold a salad. A fork was stabbed into the frosting, pulled back a moment later so L could lap at the chocolate. He continued, "You'll need to back up your things, say goodbye to your mother and sister, tell your father you won't be returning home…" He trailed off as he shoved a bite of cake into his mouth.

"My father…" Light mused. "I've tried to hard to make him realize that I care for you, but he doesn't seem to understand. He thinks that I'm only staying close to you because you've threatened to harm me if I don't. Our plan was to make him realize that I'm doing this of my own free will, but we haven't managed to do any such thing. And now that there's only a week remaining, I'm not sure it will be possible to convince him before we leave." Light gulped. _Leave._ The word felt heavy on his tongue, and even more so on his mind. He was going to leave Japan. He'd talked about it with L already, but he wasn't even sure where they were going—whenever they'd spoken of it, all L had told him was that they were going away _._ He couldn't help but wonder where _away_ was.

"It's very unfortunate," L sympathized through a mouthful of cake. "But he doesn't have a say in the matter, not anymore. You belong to me now."

Light flushed deeply, and the various bite marks littering his collarbone and lower neck throbbed as one. "Don't let my father hear you saying that. He'll have an aneurism."

"He'll find out, Light. You can't hide such things from your father, not forever. He'll learn soon enough the nature of our relationship."

The teen gulped nervously. "Yes…I suppose he will—and I've resolved to tell him the full truth myself. He deserves to know why I'm leaving, and he already strongly suspects that something is going on between us."

"I don't envy you. I wouldn't want to have that conversation with _anyone_."

To be perfectly honest, Light didn't want to have that conversation with anyone either. But it was a necessity. In the span of one week, he'd have that conversation twice—once with his father, and once with his mother and Sayu. They would all know why he was leaving. "I'll tell them tomorrow," he whispered.

L raised a brow. "You'll tell your father so soon?"

"N-no…not my father. I'll tell my mother and Sayu tomorrow, and my father sometime later this week."

L nodded in approval. "That sounds good. You should begin packing while you're there, too. It'll speed things up."

_Packing._ Another heavy word that reminded him of his impending departure. "I will."

The detective hummed contentedly as he shoved another bite of cake into his mouth. "Now," he attempted to say, frosting dotted across one corner of his mouth. "We have an investigation to fake. Come on, Light."

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he watched L trying not to spray crumbs all over the kitchen. "Chew first, speak later!" he chastised with a laugh. "I swear, you can be such a child." Light ushered L out of the room, still laughing as they began to head back towards the investigation room.

Neither of them noticed the man standing just outside the doorway opposite the one they'd used, eyes wide with horror at what he'd just heard.

†††

The next day came far too soon for Light. And even sooner came the moment in which he was seated on the couch of his childhood home, his mother sitting in the chair across from him and his sister sitting beside him on the couch. The teen found his eyes wandering to the walls, raking over the pictures that covered them. He would miss his family once he was gone. He would miss being there to help them, to simply eat dinner with them and chat.

But this had to be done.

"Light."

The teen looked up at his mother, who was watching him with a sad expression. Light frowned at the sight of it, fighting a spike of panic. Did Sachiko already know what he was about to tell them?

"Tell us why you've come here."

She suspected something, at the very least. Light's fingernails bit into the fabric of his pants, and he just barley felt them cutting into his skin through the thin fabric of the sweats he'd donned that morning. Normally he was meticulous, caring about every aspect of his appearance. But today he'd opted for black sweats and a black long-sleeved shirt. It was the exact same thing he'd been forced to wear when he was under surveillance in that dreaded cell. He wasn't sure why he'd chosen to wear it for the conversation with his family. Secretly, he supposed it had something to do with returning to a sort of captivity—but he would never say such a thing aloud. "Mother," he began, but his voice broke painfully as it left his throat.

Even Sayu seemed to know something was wrong. "Big brother?" she whispered, looking alarmed. "Are you okay? Did something bad happen?"

"N-no," Light managed, forcing his voice back under control. "It's just that something _big_ happened, something…something exciting _,_ and I came here to talk about it with the two of you because it could affect you too, and I don't want to just spring it on you at the last minute."

Sachiko had a small, knowing smile on her face. "Go on, Light. We wont judge you."

_We won't judge you._ Light knew that they wouldn't. But his father, on the other hand… "I've been offered a job opportunity," he started slowly, struggling to find the right words. "I've been asked to travel away from Japan to begin my career as a detective. I'm not sure where yet, but it'll be far, far away. If I take the job, I'm not sure when I'll be able to come home. It could be months or even years before I'm able to return here." Light flinched as he saw Sayu's eyes become shiny with tears. He hadn't even finished yet and he felt like giving up. He couldn't stand seeing Sayu cry. "I came here to tell you about the job, and that…I've accepted it." He refused to look up at Sayu and his mother a second time. "I'm leaving Japan."

Silence.

Then, softly, nearly inaudibly… "How long?"

The voice was so silent that Light wasn't even sure who'd asked. "One week," he whispered.

More silence. But then, suddenly, a quiet laugh shattered the tranquility into a thousand pieces.

Light's head jerked up, stunned to see his mother laughing, albeit in a slightly pained tone. "Mother?"

"Quiet, you," Sachiko chastised. "I can't believe you didn't tell us earlier."

"It…it was a recent development," Light defended himself. "I just found out a few days ago." More like two or three weeks ago. He could remember the exact conversation in which L had told him that he planned to take him out of Japan, and it still made him giddy with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Honestly," Sachiko went on, "your employer should have given you more warning."

"Light!" Sayu wailed, and though her eyes looked damp, no tears were falling. "You're leaving again? And…you don't know if you'll be back?"

The teen shook his head firmly. "No, Sayu, I _will_ be back—it's just a matter of when."

"Then promise you'll come back!" Sayu demanded shakily. "Promise you won't leave and never come back!"

"Are you kidding?" Light reached out and pulled Sayu close, running a hand through her hair playfully. "If I don't come back, who will there be for you to annoy?"

She sniffled sadly. "Promise."

Light's heart swelled with warmth. "Sayu, I love you. I promise I will _always_ come back for you."

She buried her face in his chest, still fighting back tears.

"I'll email you," Light offered. "Every day. And we can chat online as often as you want. I'll make sure my webcam works before I leave, got it? Whenever you miss me, all you'll have to do is give me a call. I can even help you out with your math homework if you really need it."

"You swear you won't be too busy for me?"

" _Never._ You're my sister, and I'll always have time for you."

Sayu sniffled pathetically against his chest. "Then…then I'm happy for you. You've always wanted to be a detective, and now here you are, fulfilling that dream." Her fingers twisted in his shirt. "I'm so proud of you…"

Across the coffee table, Sachiko leaned her chin on her closed hand thoughtfully. Light didn't like that knowing gleam in her eyes. "Tell me something, Light," she requested quietly. "Will he be accompanying you?"

Light knew she was referring to his mysterious partner—to her, someone known as Rue. "He's the reason I'm being sent abroad in the first place," he admitted in a hushed tone. "He'll be my partner in whatever I choose to do."

"Partner, eh?" Sachiko teased lightly. "Is that what he is to you?"

Light flushed, unable to stop his physical display of embarrassment. "H-he's…I don't know, he's _him."_

"And you'll be living together, I assume?"

"Mom!" Light gasped. "Is that really important?"

"It absolutely is!" Sachiko cried. "I should know if my only son is moving in with his boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend?" Sayu squeaked, raising her head suddenly. All hints of tears had vanished, her expression twisting into one of excitement. "Rue is your boyfriend?"

Light opened his mouth, ready to instinctively snap, _no, of course not!_ But then he stopped himself. Smiled. "Yes," he said firmly. "He's my boyfriend."

"That's fantastic!" Sayu squealed, her transformation from devastated to giddy sudden and unstoppable. But then, just as quickly, her expression fell. "What about dad?"

"He…he doesn't know yet."

Sachiko's brow furrowed. "I see…that _is_ a problem. When do you plan to tell him?"

"I have no choice but to tell him in the next few days," Light responded dismally. "I have no idea how to make him understand."

His mother offered him a reassuring smile. "You'll find a way, Light. You always have."

He weakly forced himself to smile. "Yes, I suppose I have."

"Now…" Sachiko got to her feet suddenly, a smile stretched across her face. "You'll need help packing, won't you? Come on, let's go figure out what you're taking with you."

†††

More time passed. One day turned into two, two into three, three into four, four into five, and there they were.

"Two days," Light said, and L didn't have to ask him what he meant.

"You still have to talk to your father."

"I know."

A moment of silence. Then, "You've packed your belongings, yes? I'll send Watari to pick them up."

Light turned his head slightly to his companion, who was lying in bed beside him. "That's right," he murmured. "I almost forgot. What does Watari think of all this?"

L gave an unconcerned shrug. "I didn't really have a formal conversation with him. I simply told him you'd be coming with us when the case ended. He tried to protest, of course, but it was useless in the end. He has no power over me."

"I see…"

†††

At the end of the sixth day, Light finally steeled his nerves enough to approach his father. The members of the task force were all packing up to head home when it happened. It was nearing midnight, and the darkened rooms were lit only by the glow of the computer screens—and now even those were going dark as they powered off for the night. Light, still sitting at his chair, shot a nervous glance at L. The detective gave him a small nod, an encouraging smile on his face.

Gritting his teeth, Light pushed himself to his feet so fast that the entire task force jumped. The teen immediately fought back an embarrassed blush, announcing, "Father, I need to speak with you."

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he thought he caught a tiny flinch from his father upon hearing his words. "Can't it wait, Light?" he asked wearily. "It's been a long day."

Light almost lost his courage when he heard those words. He took a tiny step back, ready to fall back into his chair and admit defeat. But then he felt a tiny nudge at his arm, and when he looked back, he saw that L was urging him forward. _Go on,_ that look ordered him. _Just tell him._

_Okay, fine,_ Light retorted silently. _I'll tell him._ He determinedly regained the tiny bit of ground he'd lost. "No, actually," he said, all traces of a stutter gone. "We have to speak now."

The task force began to file out. Soon, Soichiro was the only one in the room aside from Light and L.

"L," Light hissed under his breath, shooting his companion a meaningful glance. " _Leave."_

For a moment, the detective did nothing but stare. Then he jumped, realizing what Light was getting at. "Right," he said awkwardly. "I'll just…go." Light watched as the detective got to his feet and practically fled the room, not wanting to be caught in the middle of his family drama.

After that, silence was swift to fall. That is, until it was broken by Soichiro's gruff voice. "Well? What did you need to speak with me about?"

Light drew in a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "We haven't found any new Kira victims in the past few days. If no one is killed tomorrow, then L will declare the case closed."

"Yes, that's what he told us at the beginning of the week. It's difficult to believe that it's actually going to happen. We've been working on this case for nearly four months."

"Yes…" Light trailed off hesitantly. "And after that…" He couldn't bring himself to finish.

Soichiro didn't seem to mind. His head dipped slightly, the light reflecting off his glasses in a way that made it impossible to see his expression. Two fingers reached up, pressing at the bridge of his glasses, and a deep sigh filled the room. "You're going to stay with L."

Light's entire body froze over with shock. "You…you know?"

Soichiro cleared his throat awkwardly. "I overheard the two of you in the kitchen the other day."

"O-oh…" Light wasn't sure what to say. "Well… you know I respect you, right?"

His father said nothing, his expression unreadable.

"I _do_ respect you. But L has offered to let me work with him, and it's an offer I can't refuse. This is something I've wanted my entire life, and now it's at my fingertips. I don't want to be selfish and leave you, mother, and Sayu behind, but I _have_ to do this."

The glare he received in return was cold and bitter. "I forbid you to go with him."

"I'm sorry," Light whispered, "but no. You can't forbid me from doing this. I've made up my mind. The only reason I'm telling you this now is that I respect you and would like your blessing to leave. However, if you won't give it, I will gladly leave this place without it."

Soichiro looked away, anger bleeding into disgruntled frustration. "I see. I didn't expect that to work, so I'm not surprised you refused me."

Light's head snapped up in surprise.

His father's fingers were back at the bridge of his glasses, pushing them up slightly. "Tell me something, Light. Are you doing this because L is threatening you? Is he only keeping you close because he thinks you're Kira and wants to make sure you don't start killing again?"

"I've told you the answer before," Light responded, tired of explaining the same thing over and over. "Why would you believe me if I tell you again now?"

"Humor me."

"Fine. In that case, I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that L is not threatening me, and that he isn't asking me to come with him so he can keep an eye on me. The simple truth is that we work well together, and we've decided to do the logical thing and combine our forces."

"And you've grown attached to him."

He gulped. _I promised to tell him everything, so I'll do just that._ "Yes," he affirmed quietly. "I've grown attached."

"I see." There was another long pause. "If that's the truth, then promise me something."

Light blinked. Why wasn't his father freaking out? Why wasn't he yelling, screaming, throwing a fit, doing all the things he'd come to expect from him over the years whenever something like this came up?

"Promise me that if anything goes wrong, you'll return here at once. I can still offer you a job at the NPA if I pull a few strings, so don't hesitate to take it if things get bad."

_Is he…supporting me?_ "Father…?"

"Don't get me wrong, Light—I absolutely do not approve of you leaving Japan with that man. From what I've seen, he's cruel, temperamental, and doesn't have the capacity to care about anyone but himself. But from what I can tell, there's no way to dissuade you from this—and seeing as you're a legal adult, I have no power to keep you here other than the power of my being your father, which you have already scorned. So if I can do nothing to stop you from running headlong into disaster, then the least I can do is make you promise to come home once you discover just who you're leaving with."

Light stared at him in awe, remembering the copious amounts of yelling that he'd been forced to endure over the past few months, then compared it to the way his father was acting now. "You're…being so reasonable about this. What changed?"

"Like I told you, I heard you speaking with L in the kitchen." Soichiro turned his head away, clearly unwilling to look his son in the eye. "At first I hoped you were staging the conversation because you knew I was listening, but I soon figured out that that wasn't the case. After I heard what you said, I came to realize this is something that I have no power to derail. If this is a mistake—and I believe that it is—it's one that you're going to have to make yourself. The only thing I can hope is that you come home once this blows over."

"You…you're serious about this. About letting me go." It wasn't a question.

His response was a gruff nod. "As I said, there's not much I can do. All my power has been exhausted."

Light gazed up at his father, stupefied. A pang of guilt pierced his chest as he realized that even now, even when his father was finally showing him at least a shred of tolerance, he couldn't tell him the full truth. He couldn't tell him why he'd ended up with L in the first place, or about their own separate plan, or about the disbanding of the task force. In the end, his own father would be kept in the dark. He would have no idea why Light was really leaving with L.

"Well then," Soichiro said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Now that that's out of the way, we should return to work. Tomorrow is the last day, correct? After that, the case will be declared closed. We should make the most of that time."

It took Light a moment to snap out of his daze, finally murmuring, "Yes…let's do that." He watched, still trying to take everything in, as his father clasped him on the shoulder briefly before turned for the door and beginning to make his way back to the investigation room.

The instant he was gone, Light sagged back against the wall in relief. He'd taken care of the last thing. Now he could leave without regret.

So now, after all this effort…why did he feel so _unsettled?_

†††

"I told my father about us."

"Mm?" L was unable to respond with real words, his mouth preoccupied with creating yet another bite mark on the side of Light's neck.

"Yeah," Light managed, nearly cut off by a sharp gasp as sharp teeth dug into his skin. L seemed to have an affinity for marking him with his teeth, and he was putting it to good use. "He protested, but—"

L cut him off with a low hum. Fingertips trailed down his sides, coming to rest on his hips possessively. "He has no right to protest. You're an adult, are you not? This isn't his decision to make, it's yours."

"Yes, I know—hey! Cut that out!" Light hissed in pain as L chose another spot, this one higher up than the first, and bit down just a bit too hard. He twisted in his grip, and the sheets of the bed upon which they lay twisted with him. "I was going to tell you that my father protested strongly, but he agreed that he couldn't stop me from leaving."

L pulled back slightly upon hearing that, moving upward to press his lips to Light's fiercely. "Good. In that case, we'll leave tomorrow night." Cool fingers crept beneath his shirt, and a moment later the garment was discarded. The teen felt his belt being undone and removed forcefully.

"Yes," he agreed breathlessly as his pants were yanked off. "Tomorrow…"

Again, that feeling of uncertainty took him. And if he followed that feeling back to its roots, he was afraid that he'd find a dark-haired, red-eyed man on the other end.

†††

Very late in the night, after L had fallen asleep, Light untangled himself from the detective's embrace and slipped from the room. He was exhausted, but he couldn't seem to sleep. Even after such an eventful day, he found himself unable to succumb to his desire for rest. And so instead, in the dead of the night leading to the final day, he headed to the roof.

He knew that if L awoke, or if Watari was keeping an eye on the cameras, he would be in serious trouble. But his wish to go outside was stronger than his fear of possible repercussions. And so he kept to the shadows, moved slowly, and eventually pushed open the door that would lead to the roof. He'd never been there himself, but L had fled there after Misa had been given her life sentence. Now it was his turn to sulk.

The door opened with a tiny click. Light stepped outside and closed it behind him, making sure it wouldn't automatically lock when he left it behind. He turned his head skyward, and…

Yes…there it was. The night sky was beautiful, though partially covered by dark clouds. This was what he'd needed. He'd needed to be outside again, just like when he'd run away to the forest to be alone so many times in his youth. Light walked out into the middle of the roof, eyes never leaving the sky. He took a deep breath, and the cool air immediately whisked away all thoughts of unease. "There," he muttered to himself, reveling in the solitude. "That's better."

"Yes," a cold voice drawled, "I have to agree. It's much better to be out here where I can protect you than in there, where you're prey caged in the same enclosure as your predator."

Light's blood ran cold. His whole body tensed.

"Ah, such a fearful expression. I'm not the one you should be afraid of, princess. I thought I made that clear the last time we met."

Light didn't look, but he knew he was behind him. "Why are you here?" he rasped.

"No, Light. The real question is, why are _you_ here? Did your precious detective do something wrong?"

Despite his exhaustion, Light felt a prickle of anger at the sound of the older man's voice. "Can it, Beyond. I won't let you turn me against L."

"You'll end up dead."

Light refused to dignify his comment with a response.

Beyond waited for a moment, still somewhere at Light's back. Then, seeming to understand that he wouldn't be given a response, he said, "I can see those marks, you know."

The teen's hands shot instinctually to the collar of his shirt. He wasn't wearing a dress shirt, seeing as he'd been trying to sleep a few minutes ago, and so the dark red marks L had left stood out dramatically against his pale skin without anything to hide them.

Beyond sighed. "This is how it starts. Fits of anger. Possessive outbursts. Physical domination." He moved forward, and though Light couldn't yet see him, he could hear the light sounds his shoes made as he neared. Before he knew it, the older man's breath was rolling across the back of his neck with every word. He felt a tiny tug at the back of his shirt, and the next moment cool fingers were brushing his skin. "Tell me, Light…if I were to pull this off you here and now, would I see those brutalizing marks that I'm _sure_ he's left on you?"

Light shuddered. _It's not like I didn't want it,_ he rationalized. _Beyond is overreacting. It's not like he forced himself on me. It felt good when he marked me. It felt right._ "Don't touch me," he hissed, stepping away from Beyond and whirling around. Beyond was standing just behind him, just as he'd thought, one arm outstretched and inches away from him. He shuddered as he saw those scarlet eyes gleaming down at him. He'd never be able to forget them. "Now just tell me why you're here. How did you get on the roof? And won't you be caught on the surveillance cameras?"

"I'm not _that_ careless, you know. Of course I made sure that I wouldn't be seen by the cameras. They're not functional at the moment, seeing as I have them set on a loop."

"Tell me why you're here."

The older man sighed dramatically. "I suppose it can't be helped. I heard that you're leaving Japan, and I came to try to convince you to stay."

"That's a pathetic reason." _Why do you care so much? I don't understand why you're talking to me again after I so obviously rejected being in your presence._

"Look, princess, I'm not here to walk in circles around you." His voice was harsh, gruff. He sounded upset. "I'm telling you not to leave with L."

"You have no power to stop me," Light snapped spitefully.

"I know. That's why I'm asking _you_ to make the decision to stay." Beyond moved forward, regaining the ground he'd lost, and soon he was too close for comfort. Long fingers curled gently into the front of Light's shirt, giving him a slight shake. "I know what I'm talking about, damn you! Just listen to me!"

Startled by the sudden swing of mood, Light blanched.

"He's hurt you already! I've been watching; I've seen some of the things he's done to you! Why would you stay with him when those fits of anger make him so prone to harming you?"

"That was one accident!" Light snarled, remembering the night L had been so furious that he'd slammed him back against the wall and cracked the back of his head open. "He apologized, it hasn't happened since! All couples have spats like that!"

"No. They _don't._ Normal couples don't get into fights that end in someone's head being split open!"

Again, he was forced to pause. He knew that was true, but… "It hasn't happened since. It won't happen again."

" _Listen_ to me!" His fingers tightened their grip on Light's shirt. "Listen…you don't know him as well as I do. I've seen how he acts, how he thinks, how he really is. I've seen enough to know that this _will_ happen again. It will get worse and worse, escalating further and further, until you're reduced to nothing. It's already started. The only way out is to run. Run far away, and don't let him find you!"

"He's L," Light pointed out stubbornly. "If he wants to find me, I have complete faith that he'll be able to do it."

"Not if you follow my directions. I can protect you and get rid of him."

The teen laughed. "Thanks but no thanks. I don't need your protection. I'm happy with L."

"Is that so?" Unusually sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. Raven hair hung over scarlet eyes. Fingers uncurled from his shirt and released him. "We'll see how you feel a few months after you leave Japan. By that time, I'm sure L will have snapped."

"He's not going to—!"

Beyond cut him off with a low snarl. "He _will."_

Light stepped back sharply, alarmed by the look in those dark eyes. He didn't want to know what had caused such pain. "Beyond…"

For a long moment, the man did nothing but glare down at the rooftop, fists clenched at his sides. "You're not going to listen to me, are you?"

There was no hesitation in his response. "No. I'm not."

More silence. Then, in a move so fast that Light had a hard time keeping up, Beyond's hands shot up to his own neck, grasping at something hidden beneath his shirt. Nimble fingers dipped behind his head briefly, fiddling with something. Then he withdrew, and between his fingers Light saw the glimmering of a thin chain. A necklace? He didn't have time to ponder it further before Beyond tossed the thing at him with lightning speed. Startled, Light barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "What…?"

"Take it," Beyond ordered in a low tone. "I won't take no for an answer."

Light held the object up, examining it with careful eyes. It was, as he'd suspected, a necklace. It was silver in color, a thin chain connecting to a cross-like pendant dangling off the end with a bright red stone embedded right in the center. "Thanks," he began confusedly, "but this isn't really my style."

"It's not about _style,"_ Beyond bit out. Then, seeming to realize how angry he'd gotten, he visibly forced himself to relax. His tone softened. "Where you're going, I won't be able to speak with you this openly as often."

"You know where I'm going?"

"I have a strong suspicion. If I'm right, you'll be headed somewhere where we'll be able to talk far more often, but not openly. I can't say anything in front of _him."_

The teen frowned. It sounded like wherever they were going, Beyond expected to be in close quarters with both him and L. Where exactly were they flying off to?

"That's why I'm giving you that." Beyond gestured to the necklace. "Keep it with you, please. Make sure it's never far away. And if…if L ever _does_ something, something you can't deal with, put that necklace on. Wear it, and I'll be sure to notice. And when I do, I'll jump in and save you."

_So it's a way to put out an SOS. If L ever did something, hurt me too badly, and if I was ever afraid to say anything out loud for fear of being hurt further, this is how I can call for help._ It was kind of sweet, actually—but Light had no interest in it. L would never go that far. "Take it back. I don't want it."

"Please."

Light froze, startled by the sincerity in the man's tone. "But…"

"Please, princess. Take it."

_That nickname again…what's his deal?_ "I said I don't want it."

Silence.

Light's teeth closed on his lower lip in frustration. "I don't want it."

Silence.

The teen tasted blood, and immediately stopped biting down. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Beyond shook his head seriously.

"Then…" Light examined the necklace again. "How about a deal? I'll take the necklace, and you'll promise to stop bugging me."

Beyond's lips quirked upwards. "Fine, then. It's a deal."

Light slipped the thing into his pocket carefully, making sure the chain was neatly tucked away. "Whose is it, anyways? I really didn't take you as the religious type."

The man stiffened visibly. "It…it's not mine. It belonged to an old friend."

He immediately felt guilty for asking. "I…see. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"Don't be." Beyond craned his neck to look up at the stars, dimmed by the cloud cover that had rolled in while they spoke. "It's getting late, you know. L will probably wake up soon, and he won't like it if you're gone. He'll demand an explanation, and then what will you tell him? If you make him mad, he'll hurt you again."

"Drop it," Light ordered calmly, his tone the exact opposite of the coiling anger in his core. Beyond was right, though—it was late, and he had to get back inside. He'd only come outside to cool his head, but it seemed like that wasn't working out too well. He started marching towards the door, making sure his body language conveyed his desire to leave. "I'm going inside. Goodbye, Beyond. I don't want to see you again."

He could feel the man's gaze burning a hole in his back. "Remember to wear the necklace if things get out of control. Don't let it go too far."

"I said _goodbye,_ Beyond." He stormed through the now open door, slamming it behind him as he left the dark-haired man behind.

And Beyond, left behind as the teen made his escape, could do nothing but stare after him sadly. "Goodbye, princess," he murmured into the night. "See you soon."

* * *


	29. Thurisaz

The next day, the task force was disbanded.

Light wasn't there when L broke the news. He'd fallen asleep rather late after his conversation with Beyond, and had remained deeply asleep until late the following morning. L had taken full advantage of the opportunity, slipping out of the room and quietly disbanding the task force while his counterpart slept peacefully in the room over. Light was sure that there had been quite an argument over the subject. He was sure that the task force had attempted to get L to let them work for him further. He was sure that they hadn't believed that Kira was truly gone, even after so many days without new activity. But in the end, Light hadn't heard any of it. He hadn't heard their protests, hadn't been there to watch them go, hadn't even been there to say goodbye. That was okay, though—he'd said his farewells to his family, including his father, the day before. And so when the time came, and L shook him awake, he had no regrets about leaving without seeing them again. None at all…

His awakening had been swift. A brief press of lips against his, a gentle shake, and L's voice telling him, "Light, it's time to go."

His things were already packed and waiting in the jet. While he slept, L had had Watari do the rest of the packing. Now the building was nothing but an empty shell, all personal items removed. L still planned to use the headquarters as a place to work whenever he was in Japan, but that didn't mean he was leaving much in it.

The next few minutes were a blur. Light peeled himself out of bed, leaning on L for support, and took a moment to straighten his hair and wash his face before letting his lover lead him out into the hallway. Their journey was a silent one, broken only by the sounds their shoes made against the tiles of the floor. Only a few moments into their walk, Light felt cool fingers brush at the inside of his wrist. He didn't even look at L, knowing just what he was asking for. Instead, he turned his hand slightly to thread his fingers through L's, and that was how they stayed.

They reached the roof. And when they did, they found a jet, the door open and ramp lowered.

"It's waiting for us," L murmured. "It's going to take us to our new home. Or rather, _your_ new home, seeing as I've called it home for quite a few years now."

_My new home…_ The thought made his stomach flip nervously. _This is where I'm going to stay for a long, long time. And speaking of which…_ "L? Can you tell me where we're going now?"

The detective led him onto the plane, and a few moments later the ramp was pulled up and the doors closed remotely. Light assumed that Watari was still managing keeping an eye on them, and knew that it was time to depart. "Where we're going?" L asked at last, gently pushing Light down into one of the seats at the front. "You really want to know?"

"If it's going to be my new home, I think I'd like to know, yes." Light cast a wistful glance at the back of the plane, where a comfy-looking couch sat in the lounge. He would much rather be there than strapped into a seat—but until the plane reached the correct altitude, he'd be stuck here.

L seated himself beside him, beginning to buckle himself in as the plane's engines started. "Then I suppose I'll have to tell you…once we're there."

"L!" Light groaned in frustration. "Come on!"

"All in good time," the detective teased lightly. "Let's wait for the plane to take off, then talk."

The teen puffed out his lower lip in a pout, only to yelp as L suddenly leaned in, arms snaking around him. "Hey!" he cried. "I thought you were already strapped in!"

The detective kissed him fiercely, chasing all unwelcome thoughts from his mind. "I was, but how can you expect me to resist when you're looking at me like that?"

"You'll be thrown out of your seat if you don't sit back down!" Light warned through another kiss.

L hummed sadly, drawing back and lowering himself into his seat once more. "Fine, then. I suppose I'll have to wait to ravage you until later."

Light turned his head to one side immediately in an attempt to hide his blush. "Yes, you'll have to wait until we've landed and gotten wherever we're going. Understand? I'm not letting you do anything while we're on a plane."

A tiny chuckle sounded. "You think you have the will to stop me?"

He tensed, half expecting L to jump him again. But then, seeing that the detective was making no move towards him, he snapped out confidently, "I'm certain! There's no way in hell you're going to…going to…" He trailed off as L leaned toward him inch by inch, every tiny movement forward chasing his voice further and further into the back of his throat.

L hovered there, lips mere inches from his own. "As I thought…you're helpless to resist me."

Those words were all it took to snap Light out of his haze. He sealed his palm to L's chest firmly, pushing him away. "Get back, L! I swear, you're impossible."

"And yet you deal with me anyways," he hummed contentedly. Complying, he leaned back in his seat, though his burning eyes never left Light.

"Shut up, bastard…" Light muttered. His eyes flitted to the window behind L, seeing that the plane was beginning to take off. Soon there would be water beneath them, and after that, who knew? It was terrifying, knowing that he was about to leave his home behind.

But wherever they ended up, Light took comfort in knowing that he would be with the person he cared for so deeply.

†††

Beyond sighed, watching the plane lift off the roof of the task force headquarters and soar away. He was back in the hotel room he'd been staying in for close to a month, peering out the window mournfully. Light hadn't listened to him. He'd expected it, really—but that didn't mean he was happy about it. The teen was just so damn _stubborn._ Oh well…at least he had A's old necklace now, so he could call for help if he ever needed it. That is, so long as they were going where Beyond thought they were going.

As long as they were going to Wammy's House.

He could only assume that that was where L was taking his latest toy. It was the only home the detective had ever known, after all. It made sense that he would want to take Light there while they created their new world.

Beyond stepped away from the window as the plane flew out of sight, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cellphone. He calmly selected the right number then held it to his ear, waiting for the person on the other end to pick up. These recent events necessitated a conversation with his temporary partner.

There was a soft click. _"Beyond, it's been a few weeks. What's happened?"_

"Hiya, snowflake," Beyond chirped, slipping effortlessly back into his normal persona. "Good to hear your lovely voice again. I've missed it so much, after all."

There was a low growl on the other end of the line. _"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"_

Beyond ignored him. "Listen up, kid. L is headed back to Wammy's House, if I'm right."

_"What? He's coming here? Why?"_

"Yeah, he's kept it real secretive. He officially closed the Kira case yesterday, seeing as there haven't been any deaths for a few weeks, so that's why he's on his way over there.."

_"So he caught Kira? If that's true, then I've failed in my mission to prove myself better than him."_

Near…the kid was so prideful, so determined to prove that he was the best. Beyond pitied him, he really did—because he knew, even if Near didn't, that the white-haired teen was _already_ a hundred times better than L when it came to his moral standings. "No, you haven't," Beyond assured him. He hadn't told Near everything—not even close, actually. He hadn't told him about Light, hadn't told him that L was Kira, hadn't told him much of anything other than what kind of weapon Kira was using. Near was determined to prove that he could solve the case on his own and surpass L—and if Beyond told him everything that he knew, the little brat wouldn't feel like he was the one solving the case. Beside that, Beyond just really wasn't interested in giving Near all the answers. The only reason he was helping the kid in the first place was so he could get at L. "L caught Misa Amane, who he believes to be Kira, and had her put in jail. After she ended up behind bars, the killings stopped, so L assumed that she'd been the one performing all of the murders. He declared the case closed and left for England. But between you and me, he didn't really catch Kira. Kira's just lying low for a bit until some of the drama dies down. In a few days, he'll start killing again."

_"How do you know?"_

"Just trust me on this, snowflake. All you need to know right now is that L will be there in a few hours, and I'll try to follow behind in a couple of days. There's something I want to check out first."

A pause. Then, _"Very well. Thank you for informing me of these recent developments. I'll be awaiting your arrival."_

There was another click, and the line went dead. Beyond slipped the phone back into his pocket with light shake of the head. He hadn't told the _whole_ truth, but this was the way things had to be. Near had to figure this out on his own. When Light arrived with L, Near would no doubt figure out that something was going on. After he found out who the teen really was, it wouldn't be long before he unraveled L's entire little scheme. Still, who knew how long that would take? Perhaps Beyond would have to spur him on a bit if he got too stuck. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, though—that was why he'd made Near team up with Mello, so the aggressive blonde would be able to push him in the right direction. With any luck, the two could handle this case by themselves.

If not…

Beyond chuckled darkly, turning away from the window and heading for the door. His things were already packed into a single bag, waiting for him to leave. And leave he did, snatching up the bag and leaving the room. He'd already checked out; all that remained for him to do was actually leave the building. After that, he had something he wanted to take care of before he went back to England. Namely, he wanted to see Misa Amane. He'd been keeping an eye on the news, waiting for the day when the ICPO finally allowed the public to know that they'd captured Kira. He'd also been waiting for the day when Misa would show up in the news after being killed in prison by a heart attack. He knew it would happen. Even though L had promised Light that he wouldn't kill her, he knew L too well to think that he would keep that promise. Misa was a criminal. Misa had killed people. Misa deserved death.

L would deliver that death.

But to his surprise, the news of the girl's death had never appeared. And for just a moment, Beyond had entertained the thought that maybe, just maybe, L had kept his word. Was he changing? Was he really going to let Misa live?

He could have laughed at the thought. No, L had not changed. It was more likely that he'd killed Misa and ordered the prison staff to keep it quiet. That was why he was heading to the prison, to see if he could speak with Misa. If they denied him, he would dig just a bit deeper. Then deeper still. If he dug deep enough, he knew that he would come upon her corpse—if not now, then some time near in the future.

Beyond made sure the door was locked behind him, then began heading for the elevator. He would go to Misa. He would see if she was still alive. Then, if Near hadn't already cracked the case, he would board the next plane heading out to England.

†††

Many hours later, the plane drew to a halt. Gazing out the window, Light saw that they had landed in the countryside. Large fields sprawled out before them, stretching out for what appeared to be miles upon miles beyond the runway. Not too far away, Light could see a massive building looming. From inside the plane he could see some kind of sign stuck in the ground outside, probably displaying the name of whatever institution they'd arrived at, but it was much too far away for him to read.

"Well," L drawled, climbing out of his seat, "do you know where we are yet?"

Light frowned, staring intently out at the countryside. There were a lot of places in the world with fields like this, and he hadn't seen any defining buildings or landmarks as they were flying in. He had, however, seen many light-skinned people as they approached the ground, which narrowed down his list of possible locations considerably. And considering that L had called this place his home, it was presumably the place where he'd grown up. Looking at the detective, he could narrow down the list of places even further—but in the end, he couldn't pick one with any certainty. "Certain areas of America have open fields like this," he began slowly. "I suppose we could be there. On the other hand, it's entirely likely that we've arrived somewhere in Europe." Suddenly, something clicked. _Hey…didn't Beyond say that he lived in England at some point? And he seems to know L rather well, implying that they grew up together. That must be it!_ "But if I can only guess one place," he said, suddenly confident, "I'd say that we're in England."

"What makes you think that, Light?"

He shrugged innocently. He wasn't supposed to know about Beyond, after all. "What can I say? It's an educated guess."

L frowned, looking disappointed. "You're exactly right. That's too bad—I was hoping to catch you off guard with this one."

_So we're really in England! How exciting!_ Light took L's hand when it was offered to him, allowing the detective to pull him out of his seat. "What's that building?" he asked. "Is that supposed to be a _house?"_

The detective chuckled, "Not quite. It's the place I grew up, actually. It's a school for gifted children, I suppose, called Wammy's House. It doubles as an orphanage, which is how I ended up here in the first place."

He frowned. "I won't really fit in, then, will I?" Light asked. "Won't the other students be hostile towards someone who isn't like them?"

"They'd only act cruelly towards you if they found you intellectually inadequate. They'll never ask you if you have parents or not, so they should never find out that you're not an orphan. Everyone at the orphanage has that level of common courtesy, at the very least."

"I'm still nervous about this," Light muttered.

L's hand settled on his back, urging him to the front of the plane. The touch, light as it was, did wonders to sooth the teen's nerves. "Relax," L said softly, comfortingly. "The children are all in class at this hour, so we shouldn't run into any of them. For today, let's just focus on getting to our quarters and settling down. We're both going to feel awful for the next couple of days anyways, seeing as we're coming from a different time zone. It'll take a while for our internal clocks to catch up."

Light couldn't feel it yet; his body was still thrumming with adrenaline from the journey. But soon, he knew that he would be fighting the aftereffects of traveling such a great distance in such a short time. L would be in the same boat. "You're right," he sighed, already cringing at the thought. "I don't really want to meet any of the others until I've had a chance to rest."

They stepped off the plane and onto the runway. Watari was already waiting, their luggage loaded into a car. Light frowned, about to ask why a car was so far out on the runway, when L answered his question for him. "I had Watari send for a car," he explained. "The orphanage isn't too far away, but it's pointless to walk so far. The person in the front seat is Roger, one of the people who helped found the orphanage."

Light glanced up at the car, but he couldn't see through the tinted windows to the person within.

"It's time to leave," Watari announced, holding the door open for the pair. "I'll stay here and take care of the plane, and meet you in a few hours. Is that acceptable?"

"That will be fine," L responded. Taking Light by the arm, he led the teen to the car and helped him inside, following shortly after.

"It's nice to see you again, L," a voice sounded from the front seat. Looking up, Light saw an old man with graying hair grasping the steering wheel. So this was Roger, was it?

"Likewise, Roger," L responded, his tone forced. "How have things been?"

"The same as always," Roger said, starting the car and beginning to drive along the runway, which soon dead-ended onto a dirt road leading to the building. "We've gotten in a few new students."

"Are they any good?"

Light started, surprised at his companion's indifferent tone. Did he care about these people at all?

"They're not _objects,_ L. You can't base their worth on only their aptitude for academic subjects."

"So they're not," L summarized.

Roger hesitated. "They're nothing like your successors, but they're more than capable of keeping up with our curriculum. You should give them a chance."

The detective looked away with a hum. Light, sitting beside him, was burning with curiosity. He wanted to ask what Roger meant by successors, wanted to know more—but he felt uncomfortable talking around the man. His English was good enough, but he didn't want to slip up and say something foolish.

"So," Roger went on as they drew nearer to the orphanage, "who is this you have with you? A new student? He must be quite impressive if _you_ recruited him, L. You've never taken an interest in another student before, not since—"

"He will not be a student," L cut him off sharply. "He is to be my partner."

Light glanced to the side, unsure if he should say something.

"What's your name, son?" Roger asked gently, seeming to sense his nervousness.

"It's Light," the teen responded. "Light Yagami."

"Son of the chief of the NPA in Japan?" the man inquired.

Light stuttered, "Y-yes, that's right. How did you…?"

The old man smiled, amused. "I make it a habit to keep up with who L is working with. Seeing as he was recently collaborating with Soichiro Yagami, making the connection was simple."

L's hand closed around his wrist, squeezing warningly. "Enough of this," the detective murmured. "Focus on the road, Roger."

Did L not want Roger to know about him? Why was he acting so protective? A flare of irritation sparked in his chest. He wasn't helpless; he could take care of himself.

The car drew to a halt, and Light realized they were stopped at the front of the orphanage. He could read the sign now— _Wammy's House._ L's home.

"Thank you, Roger," L snapped, sounding bitter. "Please take care of the car while Light and I go to our quarters."

"Yes, yes," the old man sighed. "I'll have your luggage sent to your rooms."

With that, L was pulling him away from the old man and towards the orphanage. It was beautiful, like a picture out of a book. From the plane it had appeared as if there was only one building. But now, up close, Light saw that there were actually several, each made of vibrant red brick and white trim, with large windows cutting into the sides. Cobblestone pathways connected the buildings, and off at the edges of the fields Light could see a line of trees, presumably leading to a small forest. He had a feeling he'd be going out to that forest quite a lot.

"Your mouth is hanging open," L murmured beside him.

Light immediately snapped his mouth closed, noticing that it had fallen open upon seeing the beauty of the orphanage. "It…it's just… _breathtaking_ ," he whispered.

L's expression softened. "It's even more beautiful on the inside," he assured him. "Now come on, let's get to our quarters. We don't want to lag behind and run into the students, not today."

"Is it like high school?" Light questioned as the two walked through the main doors. "Are all the students kept in different classes at the same time? Is there a bell schedule? Are there passing periods?"

"Not quite," L responded. "It's more like a college. The students are free to go where they please and take what classes they want. They normally choose a focus point and take classes pertaining to that focus. For example, many of our students are hoping to work as detectives, and they focus on taking classes that will help them do just that."

Light looked around as they walked into the entrance hall. It was truly stunning. White tile floors, spotless walls to match, a large red rug that stretched down the halls and over the floors. The desk in the main hall and the accompanying chairs appeared to be Victorian. And as they continued walking down the main hall, Light could see tiny alcoves and sitting rooms filled with the same style of furniture. It looked like it cost a fortune. And if that wasn't gorgeous enough, the walls were adorned with beautiful artwork.

"Where are our quarters?" Light asked, unable to keep his eyes off the rooms they were passing.

"They're in the back of the school, near the dorms." L shot him a glance over his shoulder, noticing that he'd fallen behind in his admiration of the interior of the building. "They were built away from the rest of the dorms to be my personal quarters, so there's no need to worry about a lack of privacy. They're completely soundproof, and the security is top notch. No one can get in without my authorization."

"Good to know…" He wasn't really paying attention, looking around in awe.

They reached the end of the first building in no time at all, and soon they were emerging into a massive courtyard, each side fenced in by red brick buildings. A gorgeous fountain towered in the center, spraying water up into the air and reminding Light of the fountain L had pushed him into when they first met. It felt like so long ago…it was hard to believe it hadn't even been six months. But before he could stop to take it all in, L was ushering him into another building, this one just as ornate as the first. It took even less time to travel to the end this time. L seemed to be in a hurry, not stopping to let Light marvel at the rooms.

"I know you want to stare," the detective told him at one point, "but you'll have plenty of time to do that later. For now, let's just get to our rooms so we can get some rest. Even _I'm_ tired after that trip."

Light allowed himself to be pulled along even faster after that, and it wasn't long before they stepped outside once again, this time onto a cobblestone path that led to another series of smaller buildings. The dorms, Light assumed. The two made their way down the path and to the buildings, following the trail through the cluster of dorms and out the back. Behind the dorms there stood a large house, and Light knew immediately that he was looking at L's quarters. Sure enough, the detective led him up to the front door, and, after a few fingerprint scans and password-protected locks, the doors swung open for them.

The inside of L's home was entirely different from the rest of the school. It was much more modern, much sleeker—and just as beautiful. The floor was hardwood, dark, and shone in the bright light cast in from the large windows lining the walls. Right off the entrance hall Light could see a living room and a kitchen, each adorned with matching black furniture and appliances. The walls, like the rest of the orphanage, were white—but unlike the orphanage, at the space where the ceiling met the walls, someone had painted a black, swirling design that circled all the way around the room and off into the kitchen. Walking forward, Light saw that the black design extended into the hallway, and probably through the entire house.

"Well?" L asked, and Light noticed that the detective was watching him closely for his reaction.

"It's just as beautiful as the rest of the orphanage," Light assured him, a smile on his face. "It will be a perfect place to live, L."

The detective visibly relaxed upon hearing his approval. "Good. I've never thought much of it myself, but if you're happy, that's all that matters."

Light's heart swelled in his chest at his kind words. "Thank you," he murmured, pulling L close. "But I want you to be happy too."

"You've made sure of that already." L leaned down and pressed their lips together chastely. "Believe me, Light—if there's ever anything I want from you that would make me happy, I'll tell you. But for now, you've given me everything I want and more."

"Good…" Light yawned, finally beginning to crash. "I'm tired. Where's the bedroom?"

"Asking where the bedroom is already?" L teased, wrapping an arm around Light's waist as he started swaying. "So forward."

"Shut up," Light groaned. "I'll fall asleep on you if you don't tell me where it is."

"Such a terrifying threat," L said, amused. "But I suppose I have no choice." He dipped down, hooking one arm beneath Light's knees and the other under his shoulders. He hauled the teen up effortlessly, ignoring the protests thrown his way. "Relax, Light. I'm showing you where the bedroom is. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Come on, L," the teen protested. His arms threaded instinctually around his lover's neck, keeping himself steady. His heart wasn't in it, though, and L carried him to the bedroom with little resistance.

By the time his back hit the mattress, he was out.

†††

When Light awoke, sunlight was streaming in through the half-closed windows. They'd slept right through the night without waking. Light stretched comfortably, vaguely wondering what time it was back in Japan. He still felt tired, his body not yet adjusted to being in a new place. Still, though, he pushed himself out of bed. L was still asleep beside him, and when he sat up, the detective's arm fell from around his waist to the bed beneath him. Light took a moment to simply stare, to reach his hand down and stroke his fingers through the raven hair.

His stomach rumbled. Frowning at the interruption, Light drew back. How long had it been since he'd eaten? He'd been too nervous to eat before they left Japan, and eating while they were in the air had been impossible. Now, though, he was starved. He wondered if L had any food in the kitchen, and decided he would peel himself out of bed to find out.

Getting to his feet, he peered around at the room they were in. The bedroom was pleasantly simple, with plush black carpeting and a simple bed with a dark wooden frame and scarlet sheets. A wardrobe stood in one corner, a chest of drawers in the other, and a door occupied the left wall, presumably leading to a bathroom. Other than that, and a small bookshelf across from the bed, the room was empty. Smiling to himself, Light left the room. It took him only a few minutes to find the kitchen. When he walked to the fridge and opened it, he was pleased to find an assortment of vegetables waiting for him. Watari must have had it stocked in preparation for their arrival. He was quick to pluck an apple from the bottom shelf.

Huh…apples…what Ryuk had liked. He hadn't thought of the shinigami for quite a while. He'd assumed that he'd taken off to stay with whoever had stolen his notebook. Light was no fool, though. He knew that at some point, Ryuk would return. After all, he'd claimed that he would take his memory away from him before returning to the shinigami realm. That was yet another problem that would have to be dealt with. But in the meantime, he'd stay by L and work closely by his side.

Light took a bite out of the apple, closing the refrigerator door and turning back around to face the counter. Then he froze, nearly choking on the bite of apple.

"Who the hell are you?"

Except Light hadn't been the one to speak. Coughing to dislodge the fruit wedged in his throat, Light found himself face to face with three people, all appearing a few years younger than him. How had they gotten in the house? L had told him that it was secure and protected.

"Oi, are you going to answer me?" One of the three—a boy with blonde hair down to his shoulders and wearing an absurd amount of leather—took a step forward from where he stood in the doorway. The other two remained where they were, slightly behind the blonde. "Who are you? Why are you in L's house?"

Light stepped backward instinctually, startled by the three people. "I…"

"I believe you startled him, Mello," one of the others said. This one had white hair, and wore a pair of snow-white pajamas. "You should learn to be more polite."

_"Polite_ is for sissies!" the blonde—Mello, apparently, though the name didn't match his personality one bit—snapped. "And Matt, get your nose out of that game! This is important!"

Light looked over at Matt. He appeared to have goggles dangling around his neck, a white vest, a red and black striped shirt, and shaggy brown hair. A handheld gaming system was clutched in both hands, and those green eyes were locked determinedly upon it.

"Hey!" Mello snapped, drawing Light's attention once more. "Do you hear me, pretty boy? Do you even speak English?"

"Y-yes," Light stuttered, still shaken. "I speak it just fine."

"Then answer me!"

"I'm—"

A sudden thud cut him off. Looking to the side in alarm, Light was surprised to see L standing the doorway opposite the space currently being occupied by the three teenagers. The sound had come from the detective's fist striking the wall beside the door.

"L?" Light whispered.

"Forgive me," L growled in a low tone, clearly addressing Light, though his glare was locked on the three teens. "I should have warned you that this was a possibility."

"So the rumors are true," the white-haired teen said softly. "L, you've returned."

"Near. I see you haven't changed." The detective's eyes were cold.

"And I see that you have changed immensely. Bringing someone into your home and letting them stay with you? Have you no fear that this person may be using you?"

"What?" Light choked, completely stunned by the sudden accusation. "You think that I'm…?"

He didn't get any further, for L stepped in to defend him. "I would appreciate it if you refrained from making such baseless accusations. Light is my friend, and I trust him entirely."

"Light, is it?" Three pairs of eyes locked onto the teen relentlessly, and he shuddered at being picked apart so openly. "You don't look like much."

Light glared at the blonde teen that had spoken. Mello, he remembered. A swell of anger built in his chest, and he was unable to stop himself from snapping, "Yeah? Well you don't look like much yourself."

Mello raised a brow. "Quite the feisty one, aren't you?"

_"Enough."_ L's glare was nothing short of deadly. "I want the three of you out, now. Light and I are still recovering from our sudden trip, and neither of us have any interest in speaking with you.

Near began twirling a lock of hair between two fingers thoughtfully. "And just where did you return from, L?"

Light wasn't fooled by the innocent look in those silver eyes. This kid, whoever he was to L, knew exactly what the detective had been up to in the past few months.

"We were in Japan," L responded coolly. "There was a case there that interested me."

"The Kira Case."

Startled, Light's eyes snapped to Near, the white-haired boy. He knew that much?

L seemed equally disillusioned with the younger male's knowledge. "Been keeping an eye on me, have you?"

"It was a precaution. That little program of yours, the one designed to let us know when you're dead—it's nice and all, but it takes far too long to activate. If you were to die while investigating Kira, then I wanted to waste no time in assembling my own task force in order to destroy Kira."

_No…it can't be!_ Light's blood ran cold at Near's words, his mind immediately beginning to churn fitfully. He took in the teen's appearance once again, raking his eyes down those pristine white pajamas and blatantly bare feet. _His appearance, his words, his tone…the mere mention of forming a task force after L's death…could it be?_ He shot L a subtle glance out of the corner of his eye, but he hadn't moved a muscle or made any indication that Near's words held any meaning. _Of course he wouldn't recognize it…I told him what happened in the second half of the story, but I was never too specific. He wouldn't be able to draw the connection between this child and N. But it can't be a coincidence; I know I'm right! This person is N. And that means that the blonde…he must be M._ He bit back a frustrated growl. _I should have put the pieces together sooner! This is the person that's responsible for my death! And Mello…he's the one that got my father killed!_

It was then that L finally seemed to sense the storm surging beneath his lover's skin. He shot Light an alarmed look, head whipping around to face Near with an expression of confusion.

"Struck a nerve, have I?" Near asked, his voice disturbingly flat. "Come now, Light, don't tell me you sympathize with Kira? Or are you upset about something else entirely?"

Those eyes…they were far too intelligent, far too knowing. There was no way the younger teen knew that Light was Kira, but those crystalline gray orbs just seemed to pierce straight through him, flay open his chest and lay out his heart for the world to see. _Calm down,_ Light urged himself. _He doesn't know, and you'll only make yourself look suspicious if you start betraying your emotions._ He steeled himself, ready to respond. But before he could, a thin form was stepping in front of him, and a scrawny arm was curling protectively around his waist. _L…_

"I told you that was _enough,_ " the detective reiterated in a low tone. "You have no right to question us in this way, and Light is under no obligation to answer—"

Light immediately reached out, threading his arm around L's chest and pulling him back. The motion, as intended, stopped the detective in his tracks. Even his words were cut off, dying in his throat and fading swiftly. The teen cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's okay," he assured the three teenagers quietly. "If you want the truth, I'll tell you." _I need them to see that I'm not hostile towards them, or that'll just make them suspect that something's not right with me. Acting suspicious like this isn't going to help my case._ He fixed the three with a sad gaze, playing up his emotions in a way that only he could. "You mentioned L's death," he whispered dramatically, playing up his emotions. "I…I wouldn't know what to do if that happened, so… _that's_ why I was so upset." He could feel L's eyes cutting straight through him, clearly wondering just what he was up to. Light went on, willing L to realize what he was playing at. " Kira was trying to kill us both—L for trying to hunt him down and me for trying to help him. But in the end, we managed to overpower him. You don't need to worry about him anymore. He's been captured." _Rather,_ she's _been captured,_ he thought vaguely.

L caught on immediately after that. "Kira threatened the lives of his family members and his friends," he said. "Quite frankly, it's cruel of you to suggest that he supports such vile behavior."

As expected, the ploy worked—at least, it worked on Mello. The emotional blonde's expression twisted painfully, and his hand immediately latched onto Near's shoulder and pulled him back. "Damn, L, that's rough." Intense blue eyes locked onto Light's sympathetically. "Sorry for snapping at you earlier; I thought you were an intruder. I had no clue you were working with L on the Kira Case." A meaningful glance was thrown in Near's direction. "Isn't that right, Near? We're sorry for interrupting."

Those gray orbs never left Light. "…Yes, of course. That's quite a tragic tale. Then again, I suppose many people have similar stories, seeing as Kira has murdered thousands of people."

_He's watching me for my reaction,_ Light realized. He immediately dipped his head as if weighed down by sorrow, letting his hair fall over his eyes. "It's terrible," he rasped, voice shaking.

"It's over now," L murmured in response, pulling him even closer to add to the show.

"If Kira is gone, then why have you brought someone back with you?" Near questioned curiously, showing no signs of emotional turmoil at the mention of Kira's countless victims. "You've never done so before."

L responded before Light had the chance to process the words. "I've found that Light and I work well together. And after going through something as harrowing as the Kira investigation together, it seemed odd to _not_ remain together. Both of us harbored similar sentiments, so we chose to come back here. It's as simple as that."

Two fingers grasped a lock of white hair, spinning it endlessly. "So, to summarize: you went to Japan to work on the Kira case, just so happened to meet someone who shared your aptitude for crime fighting, formed a bond with that person, conveniently caught Kira within a five month time span, and brought that person back to your home after the case ended? All this, with only having known said person for a grand total of a few months? That seems a bit unlike you, L. You're normally far more cautious. I don't even remember the last time you let someone outside of Wammy's House see your true face."

"Naomi Misora," L drawled in response. "It may be rare, but it _does_ happen."

"Still, that doesn't explain—"

Light cut Near off by stepping out from behind L suddenly. "Please," he interjected, layering his voice with a heavy dose of pain. This had to be believable. "I don't want the two of you to fight over this." He locked Near in a sincere stare, forcing himself not to look away from that too-intense gaze. "I know that the timing of this all seems rather suspicious. But truthfully, I am only here to work with L. I am here as his partner, and I intend to work to keep him safe. It may be hard for you to trust me initially, but I swear to you that I'll prove myself worthy of being here."

For a moment, Near did nothing but stare intently. Then, slowly, he lowered his gaze. "Very well. If you are so determined to remain here, perhaps I can look beyond this convenient timing. Or perhaps not. We will see."

"God," Mello groaned, leaning over the counter dramatically. "I swear, Near, you're such a pretentious asshole."

L looked beyond the two teenagers to the third, standing slightly behind the others. "Matt?" he called. "What's your say in all of this?"

He didn't even look up from his game. "Love's love and all that shit, so go for it."

"Love?" Mello echoed, as Near's eyes narrowed suspiciously once again from just behind him.

Matt shrugged, fingers flying across the controls.

Clearing his throat before Mello and Near pieced it all together, L said, "Now that that's all sorted out, I think it's time for you to leave. As I said, the two of us are still tired, and we would appreciate some peace and quiet after our long flight and taxing case."

Matt was the first to turn, wandering towards the door and struggling to walk in a straight line as he tried to continue playing his game. Mello followed soon after, though he seemed slightly more reluctant. And finally, still examining Light curiously, Near turned and headed for the door. Light and L remained right where they were until they heard the door click, signaling the departure of their three guests.

Relieved, Light slumped against the counter. The apple he'd been eating rested forlornly against the dark marble, mocking him silently.

"Well," L murmured, "that was certainly unexpected." He stepped forward to hover just behind Light, then draped himself across the teen's back without hesitation. Light could feel his heartbeat, slightly faster than normal, through the thin cotton of his shirt. It was comforting, really, to feel the evidence of the detective's life beating against his back. "I'm sorry, Light…I completely forgot that they might come to visit. If I'd known, I would have made sure to warn you beforehand."

"It's okay," Light assured him wearily. "We had to put on quite a show, but I think it went well, considering the circumstances."

"Yes…but Near concerns me. That child has always been eerily intelligent, and if anyone is going to figure out what happened back in Japan, it'll be him."

"I can get him to trust me. It'll just take time." He didn't mention the possibility that just like last time, Near would end up causing his death. He didn't think L had made the connection between Near and the N in the story, and he didn't want to prompt it. The detective's use of the notebook had been growing increasingly dark as of late, and Light knew that there was a possibility that L would take action against Near preemptively. He couldn't let that happen, not if Near's only crime was fictionally killing him.

"What worries me is what he'll do in that time," L mused. "We'll need to be watchful of him."

Light slowly removed himself from L's embrace and began making his way for the kitchen door.

"Aren't you going to eat?" L called after him.

Glancing back, Light found that the sight of the apple only made him feel sick. "I'm not hungry anymore." He extended his hand in L's direction. "Right now, all I want to do is sleep. Are you coming?"

There was a moment of hesitation, L clearly wondering if it was safe to ask what was wrong. He must have decided against it, though, for a few moments later he was taking Light's hand and allowing himself to be pulled back to bed.

†††

After his fateful conversation with L and Light, Near returned to his room. Through the entire walk there, his mind was racing. Beyond had told him that Kira hadn't really been caught, and that L had simply assumed that one person had been committing all the murders. If that was true, murders should begin again shortly. Until then, he was left guessing. Why was it that L had brought Light back from Japan? Why was the timing so convenient? Did such timing mean that Light was further connected to the Kira case than he was admitting? So many questions…and where were his answers? Near wasn't used to not knowing things, and it made his skin crawl.

He opened the door to his room and stepped inside, letting it close behind him with a dull thud. The interior of the room was dark, and he didn't bother turning on the lights as he walked into the main living space. He called it his room, but in reality it was more like his _rooms—_ almost like an apartment with a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen.

"You're back?" a voice echoed suddenly. "Good, good! I'm running out of apples, you know! Would it kill you to grab me some more from the kitchen the next time you're out?"

Near stared emotionlessly at the creature that had come to him approximately one week ago. It hadn't left since then, lounging perpetually in his rooms and demanding apples. It had startled him, of course. He was still convinced that he might be slightly crazy. He hadn't even told Beyond, fearing that insanity was beginning to take hold. But it wasn't as if he could just ask someone else if they could see him. He'd look crazy if they couldn't, and then he'd be reported to Roger and sent in for tests. He refused to be locked away like so many of the others that had been unable to endure the rigors of being a student at the orphanage.

"Cat got your tongue, kid? Come on, speak up!"

He glared distastefully. "Someone has arrived from Japan. I want you to confirm their identity."

"What? Me? You're kidding."

"Shinigami." Near raised a finger, jabbing it in the creature's direction. "You are the only one with the ability to read the names of others. I know you aren't exactly pleased about being given tasks, but I would much appreciate it if you would help me with this. If you do, I can be sure to get you twice as many apples as usual from the kitchens."

The shinigami's eyes lit up. "Is that so? Well then, when you put it like that…"

Near continued, "L arrived back here today with someone he addressed as Light. He never gave a last name. I would like you to go to them and confirm his identity. I know that you aren't allowed to tell humans the names of other humans, but all you have to do to confirm is tell me either yes or no in regards to whether or not Light is who he says he is."

The shinigami smirked. "Light, was it? Oh, there's no need for me to check. I know exactly who you're talking about?"

The teen's head snapped up. "Are you certain?"

"Long brown hair? Eyes to match? Superior attitude? Oh yeah, I know him."

_Even more suspicious, that the shinigami knows of him._ "And if I were to ask how you knew him, what would you say?"

His teeth were bared in a crude imitation of a smirk. "I'd tell you that he used to have that notebook you've got your hands on, before that dark-haired friend of yours with the red eyes dug it up and passed it on to you."

"Incredible…" Near breathed. "So _he_ wasKira."

"No doubt about that," the shinigami snickered.

"This mission of yours," Near said, paying Ryuk's comment no heed. "You told me that you were sent here to bring back both the notebook in my possession and the one currently being held by someone whose identity you do not know. Was Light the person you chose to help you fulfill that task?"

"Heh, sure was! Although, I can't say I'm too disappointed with how you've been treating this whole situation. It's the only reason I haven't killed you."

"And why didn't you kill Light the instant you realized he would no longer have possession of the notebook?"

"Just thought he'd still come in handy, ya know?. I know he's still looking for his notebook, which means he hasn't given up on helping me. Sooner or later he'll prove his usefulness. I just have to sit back and watch."

"I see…" Near twirled a lock of hair between two fingers thoughtfully. "In that case, I'll have to have a little chat with our dear friend Light. I suppose you'd be interested in accompanying me for that."

"Why not? It might be interesting."

"I have no doubt it will be quite entertaining." The teen paused, distracted by a soft sound emanating from his phone. "What now?" he huffed. He opened his phone irritably, then froze. His gaze darkened considerably.

"Something wrong?" the shinigami asked, twisting around to stare at him with those unnerving yellow-orange eyes.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about," Near murmured in response, eyes locked on the tiny message on his screen. Two messages, really, both three words—and both bearing crushing weight. "Beyond…" he whispered. "What are you playing at?"

"Hmm?"

Near shook his head, not bothering with a verbal response. Instead, his fingers trailed across the messages that stared up at him so accusingly, so warningly, and with so many whispers of what was to come.

Two messages. Three words each.

_Amane is dead._

_I'm coming home._


	30. Othala

When Beyond arrived at the prison that was supposedly holding Misa Amane, he didn't know exactly what to expect. And so unsurprisingly, what he found was a complete surprise.

The guards absolutely refused to let him see Misa. No matter what he said, no matter how he acted, they absolutely refused to allow him access to where she was supposed to be.

That was the first warning sign.

The second warning sign came when he was rudely asked to leave upon asking if she was even still alive.

The third warning sign came when, upon speaking with one of the staff in the entrance hall, he found she had no idea that anyone by the name of Misa Amane was even being held there.

By this point, Beyond was beginning to suspect that Misa had never reached the prison at all.

Finally, upon being threatened with a call to the police, Beyond left the prison and began to do some digging of his own. It didn't take long for night to fall—and after that, breaking into the prison was a minor ordeal. Sure, he had to slaughter a few of the guards along the way—but in the end, he found himself right where he wanted to be.

The warden's office.

Normally the warden would have gone home by now, according to his schedule. But today, it just so happened that he was staying late to finish up some paperwork. That made it quite simple for Beyond to find him, and, upon making sure that there were no guards left alive to disturb them, pin him down and hold a knife to his throat.

"Now," he purred, dropping into his familiar cold-blooded persona, "do you want to tell me the truth about what happened to Misa Amane?"

The poor man was scared out of his wits. Beyond didn't blame him—after all, he was aware of how he looked, holding a knife that was already dripping red to his throat.

"Now," Beyond sighed, seeing that the man wasn't about to respond, "it would be a _really_ bad idea to upset me right now. I'm quite frustrated already, you see, seeing as I had to deal with those pesky guards outside. So it wouldn't be very wise of you to hold back any information you know."

The man attempted to shake his head, wincing as the knife sliced lightly into his throat.

"Don't make me do this the hard way," Beyond implored. "I _really_ don't want to dirty my clothes with your blood, but I will if that's what it takes."

A terrified whimper sounded, and the man choked out, "You're asking about Amane? Misa Amane?"

Beyond rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's who I'm asking about. I attempted to see her earlier today, but was told to leave. On top of that, an employee I spoke to didn't even seem to know who I was talking about. I'm beginning to believe that she was never kept here in the first place. Am I correct?"

"Y-yes," the man stuttered, clearly terrified for his life. "W-we received a message from the NPA that Amane was on her way here in an armored truck, b-but she never arrived…"

"And why is that?" Beyond pressed the knife closer, and a thin line of blood dripped down the man's throat forebodingly.

"S-shortly after that, we got a c-call from someone with the ICPO…" the warden forced out. "He ordered us to disregard the previous call, and asked us to reroute the armored truck to a nearby warehouse and leave it there. They said that t-they'd take care of it…"

"And you did it?" Beyond asked sharply. "You left the truck right where you were instructed to leave it?"

"O-of course…we didn't have a choice!"

Beyond sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Of course you didn't. That bastard never leaves _anyone_ much of a choice, does he? But that's not important now—what's important is which warehouse you were told to direct the armored vehicle to. So, which one was it?"

"It was the one on Eighth Street…the one that's only a few blocks from here. That's where we left the truck!"

Good…that wasn't too far. Beyond could easily stroll in that direction and take a peek. He didn't know if L would be sloppy enough to leave anything behind, but if he was…

"I've told you all I know," the man insisted, thrashing weakly. "Now let me go and leave!"

Beyond stared down at the man, observing his weak, trembling form. He sighed, "I'd love to let you go, but if I do, you'll almost certainly tell the police what happened here tonight. You'll give them my description, and then _he'll_ find out what I've been up to. And if that happens, when I go home, he'll make sure I'm cast out. He might even kill me. So, to prevent that…" He drew his knife back, ignoring the panicked begging coming from beneath him. He'd heard it a thousand times before, from a thousand different victims. And just as all the times before, it made no difference. When Beyond slashed downward, his aim was true, and warm blood spurted up and onto his pitch-black shirt. The dark material wouldn't hide the stain completely, but it would cover it up just enough for him to sneak over to the Eighth Street Warehouse without drawing too many strange glances from the people on the streets.

Beyond stood, tucking his knife into his belt and leaving the body of the dying warden on the ground behind him as he exited the office. After that, it easy. All he had to do was walk on down to the warehouse, which was barely twenty minutes away from the prison on foot, and sneak inside.

As he expected…nothing. But he knew better than to trust appearances.

All it took was a bit of snooping around before he found what he was looking for. There…in the dirt lot behind the warehouse, there was a patch of freshly unearthed ground. They'd tried to hide it, of course— _they_ being whoever had done this, for _L_ certainly hadn't been the one to perform the manual labor—but Beyond's keen eyes were still able to pick up on the signs. Beneath a carefully placed layer of dead leaves and twigs, he easily picked up on a few uncovered edges and patches of loose earth beneath the debris. The patch looked to be about three feet across and six feet long.

Just the right size for a grave.

Beyond wasted no time in what he did next. Rummaging around in the warehouse until he found something he could use as a shovel, he began burrowing into the freshly dug earth. Once he got about five feet down, he began to dig more carefully. He suspected that Misa, if she was indeed buried here, had not been given a coffin of any kind—and he _really_ didn't want to dig too fast and end up ramming his shovel straight through her decomposing chest. That would be sickening, even to someone as hardened as him.

Finally, he uncovered something. Through the dingy dirt, he caught a flicker of faded pink cloth. It could only be one thing. Wincing at the sight, Beyond carefully began to remove the loose dirt from around the form slowly taking shape at the bottom of the hole. It only took a few more minutes before he had uncovered enough of the form to confirm his suspicions.

Hair turned muddy brown by the dirt. A dress of tattered pink cloth. Cold, decomposing flesh. Lips that had once been painted ruby red, but that now appeared gray and lifeless. Eyes that had once been a beautiful blue, but had now been eaten away by the insects burrowing into the earth around her head. She hadn't been dead for long. Five or six days at the most. But still…it was sickening.

"Misa Amane," Beyond whispered, reaching out and touching two fingers to the side of her neck, as if attempting to find a pulse on the obviously dead model. He bowed his head, removing his fingertips from the decayed flesh. "It seems L has caught yet another fly in his web. And after he promised Light to leave you alive, too…"

He shook his head sadly. He was no stranger to death. He was used to killing people, to slashing their throats with his favorite knife and watching them bleed out, struggling on the floor. But even so, this…seeing the brutality with which the model had been treated, still evident even on her rotting form, made him sick to his stomach. He'd promised Light. He'd promised Light that this wouldn't happen, and now…

Beyond had to hold back a humorless laugh. _L is truly a monster_ , he found himself thinking for the nth time. _Even if wasn't the one to kill Misa directly, even if he only sent his goons after her, it's still his fault. He was still the one to pull the trigger, however indirect it may have been._

He took a step back and began shoveling the dirt back into the hole. As much as he hated what L had done, it wouldn't do to let the police find the body. It was better for everyone if they just believed Misa had gone to prison. Light, on the other hand, would have to know. He would tell him. As soon as he returned home, he would find a way to speak with the teen about this horrifying event.

He finished burying Misa in half the time it had taken to dig her out. Then he discarded his shovel, throwing it into a corner where he knew no one would see it. Next he looked up, searching for any one that may have been watching. He found no one, as expected—but what he did find was a tiny security camera, the red light blinking at him ominously. He huffed. It wasn't an issue, of course. This was just one of the many security cameras left behind by the warehouse managers to catch robbers. No one would check the footage unless something happened in the factory, and Beyond could tell from the design of the thing that it wasn't capable of wireless broadcasting. No one could tap into it. L wasn't watching.

He strolled over to the wall where the camera was located. He stared up at it for a moment, pondering, before reaching down and snatching up a rock. It took all of two seconds to hurl the rock at the camera, and a moment later it was crashing to the ground in front of him. He pried open the back and removed the tape on which the scene had been recorded. The camera really _was_ old to be using something so old fashioned as a tape. Tucking it into his pocket, he cast one last glance around the yard. Then, seeing nothing of interest, he slipped back into the warehouse and headed for the streets outside.

It was time for him to go home.

But first, he had a message he needed to send to Near.

†††

Light awoke the next morning with L's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The detective was still asleep, judging by the soft, steady breath that continuously ruffled the hair at the back of his neck. He had been truly worn out after their conversation with Matt, Mello, and Near—and as a result, he'd been all too swift to fall into bed the instant they reached it. All they'd had the energy for were a few brief kisses before they settled into place and fell back asleep.

"L?" Light murmured, casting a glance over his shoulder. The detective didn't even move. "Come on, L…it's late." Once again, he received no response—instead, L's arms constricted around him, making him gasp as the air was forced from his lungs. "L! Can't…breathe!"

"Hmm…" L loosened his grip slightly, but didn't pull away.

"Come on, let me up! I feel disgusting; I need to take a shower."

A disgruntled whine met his words, but L's vice-like hold loosened just enough for him to disentangle himself and stumble off in the direction of the bathroom.

About ten minutes later, and after a hot shower, Light walked back into the bedroom to find L still sprawled out across the bed. He chuckled, walking up to his lover and shaking his shoulder gently. Receiving no response, he leaned his head over the detective and let a few stray drops of water drip from his hair to the ivory skin beneath him.

"Light…" L whined. "I don't sleep very often, so just this once, let me sleep in…please?"

The teen laughed again, leaning back and shaking his head, spraying droplets of water out of his hair. "Fine, fine…I'm going to eat outside. I need some fresh air. Join me if you decide to get out of bed and be productive."

L waved a hand dismissively in his direction, face still buried in the pillows.

Smiling, Light headed down the hall to the kitchen. To his relief, there were no teenagers waiting in the doorway to assault him this time around. And so he moved leisurely to make himself a cup of coffee and fix himself a bagel and cream cheese, one of his favorite snacks. He waited for a moment at the counter, half hoping that L would come downstairs. But when he heard nothing from the bedroom, he gave up and walked outside.

The weather was beautiful. Clear skies, a bright sun, a light breeze…it was perfect. It was so different from Japan, where it seemed that the skies were often tinted gray. Light took a bite of his breakfast, locating a small patio table and seating himself gracefully. He was still in his pajamas, which made him feel a bit indecent, but there was no one around to see him. That is, until…

"Hiya, Lighto. It's been a while."

He expected to feel surprised. He expected to jump, to choke on his coffee, to have _any_ reaction other than weariness. But instead, when he looked over his shoulder and saw a pair of orange eyes staring down at him intently, he felt nothing but a vague sense of exhaustion. He'd known this conversation was coming. Honestly, he was surprised that it hadn't come sooner. The shinigami could only have left him alone for so long, seeing as he still technically owned the Death Note that had temporarily left his possession.

"Cat got your tongue, kid?" Ryuk cackled, floating around him in a circle. "Are you that surprised to see me?"

"Ryuk," Light greeted, steadying his voice as it attempted to shake. "Quite a bit of time has passed since our last meeting."

The shinigami shrugged carelessly. "What can I say? I got a bit sidetracked after that guy stole your notebook."

"And would you be able to tell me the name of this man?"

"Sorry, but no can do. You know the rules."

"Yes, yes…you can't tell me the name of another human whose name I don't already know myself. It was a bit of a long shot, but I still had to try, yeah?"

Ryuk floated back down so he was at eye level, an eerie grin on his face. "You got it. And besides, I have no interest in helping you. I have more important things to worry about—tracking down that notebook I'm after, for example."

_L's notebook._ Again, he wasn't surprised. He'd known that this was coming. He'd known that L held the notebook that Ryuk was looking for. He'd known that the shinigami was willing to kill to get it back. He'd known that eventually, Ryuk was going to find him again, and that there would be no avoiding the truth. The shinigami acted like a bit of a loon, but Light knew that he was much more intelligent than he appeared. He would figure it out. He would kill L. And then, inevitably, he would kill Light as well. There was no escaping this.

Ryuk let out a cackle, and Light looked up at him in surprise. What was he laughing about? "Tell me, Lighto, have you tracked down that notebook yet? The one I was looking for?"

He had to be careful. One slip could lead to disaster. "Not yet, I'm afraid. I've been having a difficult time dealing with L, truth be told—and I have to do that before I can finish tracking down the notebook you're after. He still suspects me, and I've been working to get around him in order to locate it."

Another laugh, this one louder. "Is that so?"

Light felt an uncomfortable prickle at the base of his spine. Did Ryuk know something? Why was he laughing?

The shinigami went on, "Well, if that's the case, then I suppose I'm stuck here a while longer while you play your little game. I'll just have to stay here and watch this all play out." Another cackle. "What a shame."

Light opened his mouth to respond, but Ryuk didn't give him a chance to do a thing.

"I guess I'll be going, then. I only showed up to ask you if you'd found the notebook—and if you so obviously haven't, then I don't have much of a reason to stick around. See ya, kid. Let me know if you find anything."

"Wait!" Light protested, taking a step forward as Ryuk began to float away. He shouldn't say anything, but he had to know. He couldn't just let the shinigami leave.

"Hmm?" Ryuk questioned, turning around with a knowing smirk.

"Do you know anything?"

"I know a lot of things, kid. Be more specific."

"This notebook you're looking for. Do you know anything about its location?"

The shinigami's grin widened. "I might know a thing or two."

"Then why…?"

"I'm not very interested in ending this misadventure so soon, get it? The instant this ends, I'll have to go and face my punishment for taking so long to retrieve the notebooks. So if I'm going to be punished, I might as well drag this out as long as I can, right?"

_So you know. I thought that you might._

"I gotta go, kid!" Ryuk called, already floating away. "Give me a call if you _learn_ anything about the notebook's location, okay?"

Light stared, wanting to respond, but found that all he could do was stare after the shinigami in a mix of dread and relief. And by the time he finally gained the will to speak, Ryuk had long since departed.

So, then, Ryuk knew that L had the notebook he was looking for. And if he knew that…

It was only a matter of time.

†††

Later that night, L sat beside the fireplace as Light dozed on the sofa next to him. That day had been filled with nothing but relaxation and idle chatter. The two were still putting off the next step, it seemed—the continuation of the search for Light's missing notebook. To be fair, even if they'd begun their search that day, L doubted that they would find anything. According to his data, there had been no new killings. The other Kira remained silent—and how were they supposed to catch someone that lurked in the shadows and refused to play his hand? It was impossible.

L looked over as Light stretched out further, fingertips brushing his thigh subconsciously. _And then there's this little problem,_ L thought, soothing his fingers through the teen's hair. _I need to figure out what to do with you. We've planned to stay here, but I still need to make sure you know what you're doing in relation to which criminals can be killed and which should be spared. Until then…I trust you, but perhaps not as much as I could. I still feel like there's something you're not telling me. And now that we're at Wammy's House, I can work on getting that secret out of you._

Ah, yes…Wammy's House. L couldn't deny the bitterness he felt at returning to his childhood home. He'd never cared much for the place or the students in it. It sickened him, how his successors were constantly clamoring after him in an attempt to surpass him. Near, especially, was a problem. In all honesty, it would be much easier to just kill him, as he had killed Misa. But in the end, he had no way of finding the first ranked successor's true name. Not unless he traded away half his life, that is—and he had no immediate plans of doing such a thing. He planned to live a long life, helping to keep the world from descending into chaos. And Light, of course, would remain by his side perpetually. Forever.

A soft sound from his phone drew his attention. Frowning, L reached for the phone on the arm of the sofa and glanced at the message. Then he froze, reading the message again, then again. _No…not now!_

_L,_ the message read, _I regret to inform you of this so soon after you've arrived home, but I'm afraid I received some news this morning. It seems that Beyond has completed his business in Japan, and he plans to return home immediately. I am unsure of how you wish to handle this situation, but you should take every precaution and tell me precisely what you intend to do as soon as possible._

It was from Watari. L's breath caught in his throat as he read over the condemning words once more. Beyond…he'd known that the monster was still out there, but he'd made an effort to avoid him ever since the _incident_ all those years ago. The incident that had created the bad blood between them. The incident that had forever changed the nature of Wammy's House. That day, so, so long ago, Beyond had promised to destroy L. If he came here now and found out that L had grown attached to Light…what would he do?

There was no need to ask. L knew.

Beyond was a dangerous person. He was violent and murderous, and if he got his hands on Light, he would destroy him. Tear him apart, limb from limb, and leave him for dead. _It's your fault A is dead,_ L snarled silently, unaware that his fingers had tightened in Light's hair, causing the teen to groan in his sleep. _It's your fault he died. You murdered him. Not me._ He clenched his teeth. _You weren't the only one who made a promise all those years ago, Beyond. I made one too. I promised that I would destroy you for what happened to A. I haven't given up on that dream. And now, with Light at my side, I have so much more to protect._

The fingers of his unoccupied hand ghosted over the keys of his phone, pondering what he would say in response. One thing was for sure; Light could never be allowed to meet Beyond. The murderer would turn the teen against him, twist his words and demonize his actions. It was true that he'd had problems in the past, but that didn't mean he was going to do the same thing to Light that he'd done to—

No. That didn't matter now. What mattered was preparing for Beyond's arrival.

There was much to do.

†††

In the end, L's course of action was minute. He told Watari to stand by, to allow Beyond to enter the orphanage as if everything was the same as it always was. Meanwhile, he would keep Light occupied and make sure he never had the opportunity to speak with Beyond. The murderer always left within a few days, so keeping Light out of harm's way wouldn't be difficult so long as this visit was no different than the others. Beyond had a habit of traveling and seeing what kind of havoc he could wreak in other parts of the globe, so he was never a long-lasting resident of the orphanage.

"L?" Light murmured from beside him. "You seem troubled."

L looked up. The two were currently seated at the counter eating breakfast, though L hadn't eaten much of anything. "It's nothing, Light," he assured him quietly. "I'm just thinking about our next course of action."

"Is it time to begin killing criminals again?" the teen asked, sounding somewhat forlorn. He'd clearly been enjoying their little vacation.

"I believe that it is, yes. We should also begin looking for your missing notebook."

Light stirred his coffee, and it was apparent that his appetite had died. "Hey…what does the notebook say is going to happen next?"

L chuckled, thinking back to the ink-blackened pages. "Actually, the next major event is my death. Fortunately, I believe we've avoided that outcome. And after that, the next major event is recorded in your half of the story. I don't know exactly what's going to happen."

"We've altered things quite severely," Light agreed in a low murmur. "We may have strayed too far off the story's path to even have a chance at reaching its ending." He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "At least…I mean, your death shouldn't be possible in the same way it's described in the story. Mine is another story."

L's eyes narrowed. "You don't have to worry about that. If the person who killed you gets close, we'll take him down just like we've taken down everyone else that's gotten in our way."

"Right…" Light's gaze grew unfocused, and L frowned at the sight of it. Was he hiding something?

L opened his mouth to say something about it, to ask what was wrong, but something he couldn't quite explain forced him into silence. Something about the air around Light…it was sobering. Instead of speaking, he found himself sitting wordlessly for minutes on end as Light stared at the table.

The silence broke as Light, having just taken a sip of coffee, placed the cup back on the table with a dull thud. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm tired of sitting around. Shall we begin?"

"Hang on," L protested, reaching out a hand to stop his companion from rising. He was relieved to find that his voice had returned to him, and that the rather somber atmosphere had faded. "We still need to go over some basic rules. I can't have you just killing anyone that you w—"

"L." Light cut him of mid-sentence, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Not once have I killed someone who didn't deserve it. That will never change." He looked away sharply. "I know what happens to me if it does."

L's heart caught in his throat. "I still think I should—"

"Please, L. Trust me."

_Trust me._ Light had been begging him to trust him since the very beginning, hadn't he? Perhaps he should attempt to show just a little bit of faith.

"Very well," he said quietly. "At present we have three Death Notes in our possession. We can each use one. Just…if you run into any problems, let me know."

He chuckled, "We'll be working in the same room, so I don't think that'll be a problem. Besides, I managed on my own for months before you showed up. I think I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can," was the amused response. "But just in case you can't…"

The teen rolled his eyes, but he wasn't truly annoyed. "You've got to be careful, L. You'll end up turning into one of those overprotective boyfriends that won't even let me leave the house without you by my side."

"And what a travesty that would be. To never leave my presence must be a terrible punishment."

An exasperated look was thrown his way as Light shot back, "As much as _you_ would no doubt enjoy such a thing, _I_ have the desire to maintain at least a scrap of my practically nonexistent privacy."

"You wound me."

Another roll of the eyes. "Let's go, genius. I want to get to work."

†††

At the end of the day, Light found himself completely floored with how many people they were eliminating. He couldn't even count the number of names and faces that had flashed before his eyes before being carved into the pristine pages of the notebook like all the rest. He was careful, of course—only those who were awaiting death found a place in the notebook. L, on the other hand…

L was starting to concern him. It was strange…they'd built the most stable relationship they could, given the circumstances, and had made an effort to bring at least some level of normalcy to the table. Between L's explosive fits of anger and Light's determination to hold onto at least a modicum of pride (which was proving to be impossible), the road had been a bit rocky. To make it work, Light had calmly and quietly ignored all of the tiny things that worried him. The healed wound on the back of his head, hidden neatly by hair, was one such thing that he chose to overlook. Another was L's reluctance to leave Misa alive, even after she'd been granted her life by the courts. Another still was the detective's willingness to use other people to achieve his goals. Still another was the fact that not all the names written in L's death note belonged to people that truly deserved to die. But even after all those things, all those details that he'd forced himself to overlook, there was something that was growing out of control. That seed of doubt had sprouted, and now…

Light glanced over at his companion. The two were in the study, both seated at desks opposite each other. There was such a hungry gleam in L's eyes as he wrote those names. _He's concentrating,_ Light rationalized, flickers of doubt lacing up his spine. _He's just focused on what he's doing._

But in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew the truth. L was obsessed. At the very least, he was _becoming_ obsessed. How many of those names written in his notebook were those of criminals already awaiting death, and how many were mere preemptive moves made by L? He'd already heard his fair share of rationale from L involving the preemptive killing of criminals. L thought that if he wiped out someone he _knew_ was going to slaughter someone tomorrow, it was completely justified.

Did…did Light agree with that? At one point, in another time, he was sure that he had. But what about now? What did he believe now that they'd left their old lives behind? Or at least, since _Light_ had left his old life behind? Did he agree with L? Did he think that they should simply wipe out all criminals that were likely to kill other people, even without the knowledge that they would _definitely_ take actions leading to the deaths of innocents? And even if they did have that knowledge, was it truly their place to kill these criminals? What if they were wrong? What if what they were doing wasn't right?

Light groaned softly, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands.

He wasn't sure what he believed anymore.

A soft chime from his phone distracted him. Unsurprisingly, L didn't look up. It seemed that he was almost impossible to distract when he was working. Giving a sigh, the teen reached out and checked his phone wearily. Then he smiled, realizing who it was from.

_Light! Big bro! How's it going with that new job of yours? We haven't heard from you in a few days; mom is getting concerned! When are you going to give us a call, huh?_

Sayu…one of the only people he truly loved. He lowered a finger towards the screen, ready to open the texting program on his phone and respond. But then, just as he was about to compose his response, another message pinged to life on his screen.

_Where are you?_

He nearly choked. What the hell was _he_ doing messaging him like this? He swiftly responded, _None of your business. I told you to stay away._

He could practically _hear_ the other male's laugh as the next message went through. _As I suspected. I know exactly where you are._

The teen refused to respond. He would _not_ feel threatened by this man.

Another ping. _I just wanted to make sure. In either case, it's too late for me to turn back now. I'm already there._

Light wanted to smash his phone. Beyond…he was such an arrogant bastard. If only—

L stood suddenly, cutting him off mid-thought. "That will be all for today, I think.

Light jumped, surprised at the abrupt move. "That's it?" He frowned. "So what do we do now?"

"We'll continue to kill criminals until we've taken care of as many of them as we can justify. In the meantime, I think I'll begin taking minor cases to fill the empty hours. I trust you'll be wanting to help me with that?"

"Yes, of course…" But it didn't feel right. Light felt like he was missing something, like the case wasn't quite closed yet. What was it? Whatever it was, it was making him incredibly uneasy. _Beyond…I bet you're behind this._ "L," he said slowly, "there's a wooded area not too far away, right? Within walking distance?"

L's eyes flitted up to meet his hesitantly. "Yes…"

"Good. I think I'd like to go there, if you don't mind. We've been shut up in this house all day, and I need some fresh air."

The detective's expression was nothing short of horrified. He tried to hide it, yes, but he failed miserably. What was he so afraid of?

"Listen, Light…" he began slowly. "I'd rather you stay in the house for the next few days. There's a rather nasty student coming to visit, and I don't want the two of you to run into each other for any reason. He's a monster, and he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you."

_Could…could he mean Beyond?_ "Who is this person? What is his name?"

"It's safer if you don't know his name," was the grim response. "All you need to know is that he's an old comrade of mine who lost his mind. He's insane, there's no way around it—and on top of that, he hates me. If he thinks there's anything he can do to get at me, he'll do it, no questions asked. That's why I'm concerned, you see. If he learns of you, he may very well do something he'll regret."

"And you won't tell me his name?"

L sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If you must call him anything, call him B. I won't give you his full name."

"If he's so dangerous, why don't you kill him?" Light asked cautiously.

L's gaze was troubled as it swung to meet Light's. "I made him a promise fifteen years ago, after an accident. I can't break it now, not after everything that's happened."

_Hey, Light, would you do me a favor? If you're ever around L, ask him about what happened fifteen years ago. He won't tell you, you know. He'll lie._

Beyond's words echoed in his mind, chilling him to the bone.

"An accident?"

L huffed, "It's nothing, just forget I said anything. Just a minor scrape between the two of us that he took too seriously."

_Is that all it is, L? Because I heard that you killed someone._

And this time, at least, the words echoing around in his mind were his own.

†††

Beyond hadn't lied. By the time Light responded to his text, he'd already touched down in England, right outside the orphanage. And his first stop was Near's room.

"Well, damn. You weren't kidding about that shinigami, were you?"

Beyond stared up in awe at the shinigami lounging on Near's bed. Across the room, Near gave a light shake of his head in frustration.

"Damn," Beyond repeated, "you've got quite a problem on your hands, haven't you?"

The white-haired teen looked away bitterly. "Things have become complicated."

Beyond whistled. "I'll say. You've heard the news, haven't you? The rest of the world hasn't quite caught on yet, but I'm sure you've noticed. Kira has started killing again. Just what do you think that means?"

"How should I know?"

"Surely _you_ , snowflake, of _all_ people, should be able to figure that one out."

"Just what do you mean by that?" said snowflake demanded.

Beyond rolled his eyes. "Well, let me lay this out for you. First, L goes to Japan in response to the Kira killings. Then, he spends a few months there working with a painfully slow task force. There he meets Light Yagami, certified genius and _wickedly_ arrogant, and makes the decision to keep him around. The instant the two of them begin working together, the Kira killings stop and a suspect is brought in: Misa Amane. Amane is kept for a few weeks, in which all killings stop. Afterwards, she is sent to court and given a life sentence, which she fails to serve due to her untimely death. Shortly afterwards, L and Light flee to Wammy's House, and the killings start up once more." The man hopped up onto the bed opposite Near's (the room was meant for two to share) and propped his feet up on the bedside table. "Now, what does that tell you?"

Near didn't respond, but Beyond could see the gears of his mind whirring at top speed. _That's it, snowflake,_ he thought. _Figure it out…_

Then the boy shook his head. "I see no pattern, Beyond. What are you going on about?"

So, that was the route he was taking. Lying, just because he didn't want to believe the truth. "I have a feeling you've suspected what's really going on here for quite a while."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And yet I can see the realization in your eyes," Beyond sighed. "Even if you're not allowing yourself to fully realize it, you know who's behind it all. It's obvious, actually—who else would have such a strong penchant for justice?"

" _Beyond."_

"Ooh, and now I've made you upset! How delightful!"

"Beyond," Near repeated in a low tone. "I would appreciate it if you leave now."

The man shook his head condescendingly. "If you want to kick me out, then so be it. But sooner or later, you'll realize that the person you're trying to take down is right under your nose. I'd start there, if I were you. And get Mello's help, like I suggested. You two will work better together, even if you don't see it yourselves."

"Enough!" Near hissed, losing his temper in a rather rare display of anger. "You've done your part in this, Beyond, so stay out of it now! You've given me the notebook and the shinigami, and that's all I wanted you to do. Now… _please_ , leave the rest to me. I'm going to catch Kira and prove that I'm better than L, better than _all_ the others. I'm going to prove that I'm ready to succeed L. Can't you understand that?"

Oh, he understood far too well. Back in the good old days, back before disaster struck and A was caught in the crossfire, he'd felt the same way. Overtake L. Become better than L. Take his place. Beyond had thought the world of the man. Now, though…

"Careful, Near," he growled. "You know what they say about worshiping false gods."

His response was a cool glare. It seemed the teen's temperament was back under control. "I also know what they say about trusting a murderer."

Beyond smirked. "I don't think I've ever heard a specific expression for that one. Care to share?"

" _Get out!"_

Both hands shot out in front of him, palms held up in a sign of submission. His toothy grin, on the other hand, conveyed the opposite message. "Very well, then. If I've really done my part, I suppose the rest is up to you. But don't be surprised if my lack of a leash gets me into trouble."

"Beyond—!"

He cackled loudly, already halfway out the door. But then he paused, his expression growing serious just as quickly as it had cracked into hilarity not a moment before. "Listen, Near. I'm going to give you some advice you won't like. You need to challenge L. Do it soon. Do it now. Challenge him, and tell him that you know he's Kira. Get him on his toes early, and take him down while he's unbalanced. I know you don't want to believe me, but this is the only way. You know it as well as I do." He took that last step, exiting the room. "Goodbye, Near. I hope you choose well."

Message delivered, he began strolling back towards the entrance to the dorms, that grin still etched into his face despite the severity of his final warning. Near expected him to stay out of this? What a joke! Not when it was getting to good. No…Beyond had a different plan in mind. If Near wanted to be left alone to deal with that shinigami and all the trouble that came with it, then fine. Beyond would just busy himself with more interesting things.

He'd reached the door to the building. Which meant that just around the back, L's quarters were waiting. Hmm…perhaps it was time to pay his old friend a visit. It _had_ been about seven years since their last interaction, after all. Maybe eight. Maybe more. To be perfectly honest, he'd lost track of time. In either case, it was definitely time for a house visit. Ooh, would Lawli be glad to see him? Would it be just like old times, with their petty bickering, and their half-assed insults, and…

His thoughts trailed off into nothing. No…of course it wouldn't be like before. It could never be the same.

Never again.

Still, though…he'd like to pay his old friend a visit. There were things he needed to do, things he needed to say. And the first thing on his to do list was getting rid of L and freeing Light. L was a monster—and he had no business remaining at the side of someone so kind. But to do that, he needed provocation. It was obvious that L was making at least a modest effort at not losing his temper, at not reverting back to the monster that had killed A. So, then—Beyond needed to find that monster and lure it out. He needed to manipulate it. He needed to bring it to the surface, and fast. Before L sunk his claws in any further. And there was only one way he could think of to do that.

_Lie. Lie, lie, lie—and plant those little seeds of deceit that you're so well known for._

And once he'd done that, L would take care of the rest unwittingly. Beyond would not be the one to make Light see that his lover was a monster, oh, no.

In the end, L would do that himself.


	31. The Four of Wands

Beyond knew that he had to talk to L. He knew that he had to set his plan in motion. He knew that it was the right thing to do. He knew it was the wrong thing to do. He knew that Light would be hurt by everything that would no doubt transpire, and he knew that it would be his fault as much it was L's.

Of all this, he was certain.

Now Beyond stood outside the house L and Light were sharing, looking up at the window that marked their bedroom. It was very late, but this was necessary. He would need to talk to L now, while Light wasn't awake to realize what was happening. He would need to plant suspicion in L's mind immediately, while there was still hope that he could be taken down and Light could go free.

_Light will hate me for this if he ever finds out,_ Beyond recognized dismally. _For me to do what I'm about to do, to say what I'm about to say…I'm no fool. I know it's wrong. But…if I want Light to live, then this has to happen_ now. _No matter what I say, Light has made it clear that he won't give up on L because of my warnings alone. No—L will have to do something to make him realize that he needs to run. And on top of that, it will have to be soon. The longer I let this go, the longer Light is in danger, and the more likely it is that he'll be killed. I will do this, and it will be wrong, but it will save Light. I will gladly accept whatever punishment may come because of this, so long as it means that Light will live._

Beyond leaned down and plucked a tiny stone up from the grass, tossing it up and down listlessly. Then he threw it up at L's window, the pebble plinking against the glass lightly before falling back down at his feet. He picked it up again and repeated the process, hoping that L would hear the noise and wake up. He was a light sleeper, so he would likely wake up while Light remained asleep.

_Forgive me for this, Light. It's the only way._

He slipped into character, approached the window, and prepared for the show to begin.

†††

L awoke early the next morning to the sound of something striking his window. Or rather, the window that now belonged to not just him, but to Light as well. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that they shared a life now.

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

There it was again. Something was hitting his window, tiny little noises permeating the bedroom. Just what was going on?

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

Grumbling, L got to his feet. He'd barely been asleep anyways, drifting in and out of consciousness periodically due to his insomnia. He'd only stayed put once Light had thrown a tired arm around his waist and held him down. And speaking of Light…

L glanced down at his companion to make sure he was still asleep. Then, seeing that he hadn't moved a muscle, he pushed his way over to the window and threw open the blinds.

He blinked.

It wasn't morning. Rather, it was the dead of night. Strange…he could have sworn that he'd seen rays of sunlight coming in through the blinds. But now that he was really looking, he saw that the moon was hanging low in the sky, still a few hours from giving way to the sun. Hmm…strange. So what had awoken him? He opened the window and climbed out onto the balcony outside his bedroom, not caring how odd it looked.

"Well hello there, beautiful. Fancy meeting you here."

_No._

He recognized that voice. He recognized it, and he hated it.

"Now, now…why the long face? Don't tell me you're not glad to see me after all these years."

L opened his mouth, and his voice wouldn't work. A deep pit of anger was boiling within him, and he could feel it slowly pushing its way to the surface. _No! I won't lose control like this! I could end up hurting Light if I do, and I can't stand to do such a thing again!_

A deep sigh met his ears. "I suppose not. I don't know why I'm surprised. Honestly, Lawli, you've always been so uptight. It's just one of the reasons that A di—"

"Beyond!" L choked out, finding his voice. Then he cleared his throat, swallowing down his nervousness. He shouldn't feel this way around the man. There was no need to feel afraid of him. They'd promised each other long ago, even if only in silence, that their battles would not be fought on the physical plane. He would never attack Beyond head on, and Beyond would never lay a hand on him. It was their unspoken vow. "Beyond. Tell me why you're here."

"What, I can't visit an old friend?" he crooned. "And a _new_ one as well, by the looks of it! Tell me, Lawli, who's that beautiful specimen you have locked up in there with you? Someone I can play with, perhaps?"

L clenched his teeth, but refused to show any sign of outward distress. Beyond could _not_ know about Light. But that look in the murderer's eyes…was it possible? Did he _already_ know? But how?

"Maybe a friend?" Beyond went on when it became clear that L wasn't going to respond. "How unlike you. But then again, you've always been so unpredictable…I wouldn't put it past you to do something like hunting down a new toy simply for your own selfish purposes."

His words rang with shadows of the past that L had long been trying to escape. "If you're talking about A, then you should stop immediately. I'm in no mood for your accusations."

"What?" Beyond's expression darkened. "Are you honestly implying that my accusations are groundless? You _slaughtered—"_

" _Beyond."_ His voice was strained now, barely kept under control. "Beyond, please—I have never resorted to physical violence with you before, but if you continue in this manner, I will have to rethink my position."

"You can try," the man sneered. "Tell me, L—when are you going to tell your latest toy what you did to the last one?"

"A was not my toy!" L snapped. "Our relationship was completely different from the one I have with Light."

"That's true, at least…I suppose you never thought of A in _that_ way, did you? But regardless of that, I'm sure they'll both end up the same."

"You act like you had no part in it," L shot back. "You know full well that the fiasco wasn't my fault."

"That's rich, coming from you."

L dropped his head into his hands momentarily. When he looked up, the clouds covering the moon had parted, and he could see Beyond clearly for the first time in years.

He hadn't changed. He had the same leering expression, the same sunken, scarlet eyes, the same pale skin, the same malevolent aura. The only thing that had changed was his height. After so many years, Beyond had grown to be about a half an inch taller than him.

"Beyond, I won't ask again. Just tell me why you're here."

The man didn't look amused. "I told you, I haven't seen you in—"

"Our relationship isn't exactly friendly," L reminded him, cutting him off. "I seriously doubt you came here to catch up."

Beyond's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fine. You want the truth? I'll give it to you." He stalked forward, leaning in with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "This is going to sound strange, but I hope you'll hear me out. L, my dearest friend—do you trust Light?"

"Do I trust him?" He echoed the question back at the man, confused. "Of course I do. That's why I brought him here."

Beyond hummed, shaking his head. "And yet you never _actually_ told him you were L, did you? He knows now, obviously, but not because you ever distinctly told him. You just let him assume. Light knew that he was right about that little assumption, of course, but still…to have never actually told your lover your own name! That's not very trusting, dearest Lawli."

"What are you getting at?"

"That's easy! You. Don't. Trust. Him." With every word, the murderer leaned closer and closer, until his breath was ghosting across the face of his motionless companion. Then he giggled, shooting backward at breakneck speed. "I don't blame you, of course. How can you trust someone who still has connections to the outside world? His parents and sister are a real liability, you know, not to mention his friends at school and the task force. Can't you imagine it? What happens if one of them is taken hostage because someone just so happens to figure out his connection to you? Your precious Light would be devastated. He'd blame himself, no doubt, and he might even expect you to turn yourself over in their place!"

"That's ridiculous. Light would never ask that of me."

"Oh, but he would! And what would happen when you said no, as we both know you would? He'd hate you, Lawli. He'd turn against you. All because of those pesky connections. Wouldn't it be easier if those connections just…went away?" Those pale fingers were drifting towards L, intent upon cupping the side of his face.

An equally pale hand shot out to grab Beyond's wrist before he could make contact. "Stop this at once."

"You know I'm right!" he sang. "I suppose you could always use your _Death Note_ to get rid of all those unnecessary connections, but—"

" _What_ did you say?" L hissed, alarmed at the mention of the Death Note. How did Beyond know about it?

"What, you really thought I knew nothing of your little game? No, my dear, I know _exactly_ what you've been up to for the past few months. It's quite scandalous, don't you think? To imagine the great L breaking the law!"

"It's not breaking the law, it's _justice!"_

A light chuckle met his ears. "Very well, Kira. Then play your little game and lose everything. And you _will_ lose everything—because in the end, Light will leave you for dead, and what will you have then?"

L couldn't meet the other man's gaze. His eyes locked on the ground and refused to move.

He felt rather than saw Beyond's answering smile, the murderer's lips brushing lightly at his ear as he spoke. "I'll tell you, then." He moved, and then L felt two hands closing on his shoulders, drawing him slightly closer.

"You'll have _nothing."_

L nearly choked.

"And what a shame, too…" Beyond sighed, his hands slipping from L's shoulders. "You could have had everything. If only you'd eliminated those pesky connections when you had the chance. Then Light would have only you to depend upon. Then he would only trust you. And once you were certain that he trusted you and only you, loved you and _only_ you, perhaps you could learn to trust him as well." The man pulled away entirely, this time leaning on the railing surrounding the front porch.

"Beyond…" L found himself unable to conjure words.

"Then again, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about." The man pushed himself away from the railing a heartbeat later and began strolling down the stairs leading to the path stretching out away from the house. "After all, it's not like outside relations played a hand in getting A killed." He paused. Then, "Oh, wait…"

L's blood ran cold.

Beyond shot him a wide grin over his shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets. "It's up to you, Lawli. The power is in your hands now. But there's one more thing you should consider before I leave. When you go to eliminate those connections that your little boyfriend has built up, make sure you don't make it obvious. Light won't exactly believe you if you claim that _all_ of his friends and family just suddenly had simultaneous heart attacks. Try to be a little creative for once, yeah?"

"I'm not going to—!"

"Yeah, yeah." Beyond was fading into shadows now, barely visible on the path. "Just be careful. I'd hate for Light to take you down before I get the chance to do it myself."

"Wait!" L insisted, stepping forward. "Why tell me all this? Don't you hate me? I'd expect you to try to snatch Light away from me, not give me dating advice."

Beyond paused. "You want the truth?" He turned, and his teeth gleamed in the dim light. "Well…it's more fun breaking you down if you have something that you _really_ care about first. And the way I see it, you don't really care about Light just yet. If you did, you would never have left all of his potentially life-threatening connections alive in Japan. That's all."

"If that's true, then all I have to do to get you to stay away from him is leave all of his connections alive. By your standards, that means that I don't care about him, and therefore harming him is a waste of your time.

Beyond hummed. "True. But you will never trust him."

"Better that than letting _you_ get your hands on him."

"You say that now, but I know you better than you think. A day will come when you can't stand not to trust him any longer. You'll kill them all, L—because that's the kind of monster you are, even if you keep it hidden from the world. And if I'm right, that monster will show itself sooner than later."

L's heart climbed into his throat, and he could take it no more. "Get out of here," he said, tongue thick and dry in his mouth. "I won't hear this any longer."

"It's your choice, Lawli. I hope you don't disappoint me."

And just like that, white teeth and gleaming eyes disappeared into the shadows.

L was left on the balcony alone. _Kill all his connections. Leave him with only you to depend upon._ Beyond's words tortured him, echoing over and over again inside his mind. _It's the only way you'll ever trust him completely._

His words rang true. So long as Light was connected to the outside world, there would always be a part of L that distrusted him. But that didn't mean that he didn't care about him. No, quite the opposite—he cared deeply for the teen. He never wanted to leave his side. What had started off as passing interest had turned into passionate obsession, and he was powerless to stop it. But even so…

"I am not so cruel as to slaughter his friends and family," L whispered to the empty air. "Not without reason. If the opportunity presented itself…"

He trailed off, unsure of what he would say next.

_There will come a day when you can stand to feel distrust for him no longer._

_You will kill them all._

_You're a monster._

"You're wrong…" L whispered. "Never again…" He trailed off once more, but his unspoken words were a silent shout into the void.

_I will never let what happened to A happen to you, Light. I will protect you. I will save you._

_No matter what it takes._

†††

For a while after that, things were good.

Two weeks. That was all they got. Two weeks to be together, to work on ridding the world of deserving criminals, to plan out their next move, to simply bask in the existence of the other. It felt good; it felt right. It felt like a fairy tale ending, where everyone lived happily ever after. But L knew better than anyone else that those kinds of endings only existed in children's books. And so, two weeks from his conversation with Beyond, when it all came crashing down around them, he wasn't surprised.

It began with a television broadcast. Sakura TV had always been a thorn in L's side, but lately they'd been worse than ever. This was no exception. Early in the morning, scarcely after Light managed to drag himself out of bed, a broadcast went out to the entire world. A live broadcast, fanning a single image and a weighty message out across the globe. The screen was white, a gothic letter emblazed in the center. The message was far more complicated.

_"Ladies and gentlemen of the world, I bring you news. Terrible news, yes, but news that must be shared with all of you, for it is you who has been deceived. I ask you to hear my message and take the appropriate actions to combat the situation I am about to describe to you."_

It lasted for ten minutes, but ten minutes was all the speaker, his voice modified by a familiar filter, needed to spread his poisonous message across the world.

_"Not too long ago, the NPA released a statement to the public that claimed Kira had been caught, thought the identity of the supposed murder was kept a secret. I am here to tell you that the NPA was wrong. The more astute among you have no doubt noticed that the killings have begun again. It is true, then, that Kira has returned—and my investigation has pointed to the fact that Kira is someone working closely as the ICPO. He is the one that has been killing criminals. You do not need to fear, though, despite this horrific news. I am confident that I will be able to defeat Kira, bringing him to justice permanently. Mark my words, there will be no peace until this monster is caught and put behind bars."_

The person didn't come out and say it, but L knew what this was. This was a public challenge, issued directly to him. This was someone staring him in the face and saying, _I know who you are and what you're doing. Now what are you going to do about it?_

How strange it felt, for the hunter to become the hunted.

Still, L couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. This person, who clearly knew exactly what was going on, hadn't revealed L's identity as Kira to the public. If he had, countless complications would have arisen. The news that L was Kira would have destroyed order as the world knew it. But instead, this person had foreseen such an outcome and moved to counter it. He was clever. But then again, L knew just how intelligent the person was, so it shouldn't have been unexpected at all.

That gothic letter gave it all away.

_N._

_Near._

He'd figured them out. As L had feared from the very beginning, the young man had pinpointed Kira's true location and identity, and had wasted no time in letting the whole world know that he knew exactly what was going on.

While the broadcast happened, Light watched with a horrified expression. "Is this it?" he whispered. "Has he figured it out?"

L's fists clenched at his sides.

_"Listen to me, whoever you are. I know that you think you're doing this for the right reasons, but you're wrong. What you're doing is evil. You're nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. And I'll make sure that like a child, you'll end up with the proper punishment for your crimes. Whether that punishment means execution or jail time is up to you. If you have any pride left, any semblance of humanity beating within that withered heart of yours, you'll come forward now and spare me the trouble of hunting you down. This is your decision, Kira. But before you decide, consider this—when you make your choice, it won't just be affecting you anymore. It will be affecting the life of everyone close to you, everyone who has come to care for you. Would you be able to live with yourself if those close to you died because of this? Because of your selfish actions?_

"Near," L growled. "You'll pay for this."

_"The choice is yours."_

He'd heard that phrase far too often lately. L slammed his fist into the television, turning it off harshly. "That bastard," he snarled, "accusing me in the same way I accused the original Kira! Does he think this is some kind of joke?"

"It's Near," Light whispered, eyes locked on the black screen. "I…I suspected he knew, but this…"

"That white-haired brat!" L spat furiously. "And I have no doubt he's roped the other two into this as well. If only I knew their true names! I'd wipe them off the map here and now. But there's no way to get to them—they're the only ones that know their true names, and there's no way they'll give them to me!"

Light's gaze was cautious as he said, "Well, even if that's off the table, I'm sure we can find some other way to fight them."

Two fingers pinched at the bridge of L's nose. "You're right. I'm sure there's something we can do to gain Near's name, something we can do to outsmart and kill him."

"Kill him?" Light whispered. His head dipped. "But he's done nothing wrong."

"He's opposed us!" L insisted, nails biting into his palms. "He must be taken down!"

"L…"

A pair of hands shot out, and the next moment those nails were biting into Light's shoulders. "He's vowed to take us down!" L spat. "We have no choice but to kill him!"

"L, please!" Light tried to pull back, but all he managed to do was back himself into a corner, where the detective pinned him firmly. "Please, listen to yourself! You sound like Kira!"

"I _am_ Kira!"

Silence fell after that. The two stared at each other, one horrified, one furious. Then, slowly, Light's hands came up to cup L's cheeks. "Please," he repeated in a whisper. "Don't say that. You're not Kira. You're not a monster."

And those words— _you're not a monster—_ were all that it took to snap L out of it. Not a monster? No…in this moment, holding Light against his will with the intent of hurting him out of anger…he was a monster. This he knew with clarity.

"L," Light said in a hushed tone, "let's work on stopping Near together, and let's vow not to kill him. We're not Kira. We're not evil. Do you understand that?"

He wasn't so sure. But still he gave a brief nod, and Light, instead of pushing him away, pulled him into an embrace. It was a show of trust rivaled by no other, and L appreciated it immensely. _You trust me so completely,_ he thought, hands twisting into the back of Light's shirt and holding him close. _If only I trusted you just as wholly._

"Now," Light whispered, "let's just to upstairs, okay? We can lay down and talk this out. Is that okay?"

L gave a dull nod, but refused to let go.

A light chuckle met his stubbornness. "All right, then. Let's stay here a bit longer."

And L was all too happy to indulge him—even though in reality, it was the other way around.

†††

That ten-minute broadcast changed everything. And a week later, another ten-minute conversation changed everything once again.

This time, the news was delivered by Watari. The old man hadn't been stopping by the house, sensing the dark aura wafting off of it after the broadcast sent by Near.

"Sir," Watari said, standing in the kitchen in front of the two habitants of the house. "I've received news from Japan that I thought might concern you."

"What is it?" L asked, disinterested. He'd been in the middle of killing criminals when he'd been interrupted, and he wasn't pleased about it. Light, on the other hand, seemed relieved for the break. He wasn't as enthusiastic about killing as him, L noted. He was more reluctant, more determined to make sure that only the deserving criminals met their end. L wasn't as concerned with being careful anymore.

Watari cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well…this is a bit difficult to say, but…" he trailed off. "I'm afraid that the NPA is dealing with a rather nasty situation at the moment. L, you remember that gang you took down there not too long ago, correct?"

"The one involved with human trafficking?" L asked in a disinterested tone. "What of them?"

The old man hesitated. "I'm afraid that they've regrouped and struck back against the NPA, who they know as the group that took the majority of them down."

"And this concerns me because…?"

"It should concern you because Light's father is the chief of the NPA!" Watari snapped in a rare display of irritation. "If this gang is going after the NPA, Soichiro Yagami is going to be directly in the line of fire! That should concern you!"

"He's the chief for a reason. He can take care of it."

Light, who had remained seated at his desk and silent thus far, flicked his gaze carefully from face to face. "Look," he began, "shouldn't we check it out? I mean, what if these guys are a real threat? This could be a serious problem, and we don't want to underestimate it."

"I've dealt with the gang before," L reminded him irritably. Every minute he wasted here, he could be killing countless criminals. He needed to get back to work. "Your father will be fine."

"Actually," Watari insisted, "Mr. Yagami was the one who called for your aid in the matter."

Light's gaze glimmered with hope. "It would be nice to see Japan again, don't you think?"

"Out of the question. We have enough to deal with here as it is."

He didn't miss Light's hurt expression. "But L…"

The detective whipped around to glare at him, but he spoke no further. What was that Beyond had said? Oh, yes—something along the lines of, _he'll expect you to put yourself in danger to save those pesky connections of his. He'll expect you to save them, even if it puts you in danger. Now, if only those connections didn't exist. Such a disaster would never happen, and you could trust Light completely._

_Beyond was right,_ he thought hatefully. _Light values his outside connections more than me. That's why he's doing this. He doesn't care about me like he says he does._

Light's expression grew concerned. "L?" he whispered, leaning closer. "Are you okay? Look, if you really don't want to go back to Japan, we don't have to. Let's keep an eye on the situation from here and make sure nothing goes wrong, okay?"

L's heart twisted with anger. His hands clenched into fists.

The teen seemed to sense the imminent danger. "Please, L…calm down. Just _calm down_."

A moment later the anger broke, and L was left staring into the concerned eyes of the one he so adored. What was he thinking? Of _course_ Light cared about him. He was simply concerned for his family, as he should be. That didn't mean that he cared about L any less, and it never would. Beyond was wrong.

But still…that flicker of doubt…

"Is that all, then?" Watari asked politely. "You'll be monitoring the situation from here?"

Light answered for him, no doubt guessing that any words that came out of L's mouth at the moment would be venomous. "That's correct, Watari. Thank you for letting us know."

The older man gave a shallow bow before turning and retreating from the room, leaving the two males alone.

"I'm sorry," Light whispered. "I didn't expect you to get so mad when I suggested—"

L cut him off. "No, no…I shouldn't have been that upset. It's my fault. It's just that all of this stuff with Near…"

Light soothed him with a gentle stroke of fingertips down his shoulders. "I know that it's stressful. It's okay. We'll keep Near as our first priority, and watch carefully over the NPA in the meantime. If anything goes wrong, we can do something to intervene."

L gave a brief nod.

"Good. Now…" Light inched forward, resting his forehead to L's. "We've been working for weeks without fail. I think we should take a little break, don't you? You never showed me the forest, and I'm in the mood for a picnic."

"Picnic?" L echoed, surprised by the childish request. "But the criminals—"

"—Will still be here when we return," Light finished sternly. "No complaining, L. We're going to the forest, and we're going to bring along lunch. I need a break. After all this work without any kind of break, I'm exhausted."

L grumbled, "Work isn't fun? _."_

"No, work is _not_ fun," Light said, resting his chin on L's chest and peering up into his eyes. "We've been slaving away at this nonstop for weeks, and I'm about to go stir-crazy. So let's go to the forest and take a little break. That person you don't want me to run into—he's gone, right? He left again?"

Actually, as frustrating as it was, Beyond was sticking around for longer than usual. Normally he only stopped by the orphanage briefly. But this time he'd stayed for weeks, and showed no signs of leaving. But still, he'd kept his promise in staying away from Light. It should be safe. "He's not gone, but we won't run into him." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, then… I suppose if this is really what you want…"

"Yes!" Light cheered. "Thank goodness, I've been dying to get out of the house for two weeks!" He was already halfway to the hallway before he turned, shooting over his shoulder, "Come on, let's get dressed!"

L groaned. Just what had he gotten himself into? But still, he'd already agreed to this, and he _could_ use a break, maybe…

What could go wrong?

†††

A few hours later, as promised, the two were in the forest. It had been quite a while since Light had had the opportunity to be outside for an extended period of time, and he wanted to enjoy it while he could. Now that Near had finally come out and declared war on Kira, he had a feeling that he wouldn't be seeing the light of day for a while. Not until they made sure they were out of danger.

"And you're sure this is necessary?"

Light shot a glance at L over his shoulder, responding, "Absolutely. If we're going to coop ourselves up in the house for the next few weeks, I demand a vacation! And since we can't exactly go gallivanting off around the world on a _real_ vacation, this will have to do."

L pursed his lips in a pout. "We could be killing cri—"

He whirled around so fast his head spun, reaching out and clamping a hand over L's mouth. "Not another word out of you!" he commanded. "We're not out here to talk about the Death Note, we're out here to relax! Got it?"

The detective looked anything but pleased. "If we must."

Content for the moment, Light turned back to the forest around them. It was nothing like the one in Japan. Instead of great oak trees with gentle curves and soft leaves, the trees in this particular forest were made of pine. As a result, the soft blanket of undergrowth that Light was so used to was completely absent. In its place was a thick coating of dead pine needles, which weren't exactly easy on the feet. Light, having worn tennis shoes, was protected from the sharpness of the needles. L, on the other hand, seemed to be in quite a bit of discomfort. He'd chosen to go barefoot.

There were other differences as well. Back in the forest he'd visited so often, the oak trees were tall, but the branches hung low. In many places, Light had to duck his head to avoid being brushed by the leaves. The low-hanging branches had made it next to impossible to see more than ten feet in front of you. On the other hand, the pine trees were much different. They were double the size of the oak trees, and even the lowest of their branches didn't begin until well above Light's head. This meant that the forest felt much more open, and much more vulnerable to outside eyes.

"This is miserable," L grumbled from beside him, shaking the pine needles off of one foot. "I think I'm bleeding."

"You're the one that decided that wearing no shoes in a pine forest was a good idea," Light chastised. "Then again, I had no idea that this was a place absolutely _covered_ in pine needles. If you'd told me, I would have warned you."

L only grumbled in response.

He sounded irritated, but Light could detect a faint glimmer of affection in his eyes. No matter what he said, he wasn't too upset to be outside. "Now come on," Light urged. "Let's chose a place to settle down for lunch." He trekked further into the forest, seeking out a place to sit down without being constantly jabbed by pine needles. Now, where would they sit…?

"Light!"

The teen found himself being pulled backward, back colliding with L's chest. "Hey!" he protested. "What…?"

L's arms tightened around his chest. "Light. Look down."

The teen's eyes snapped to the ground. _Oh…_ he thought, mind going momentarily blank. _That was close._

Mere inches from Light's feet, the ground dropped off into a shallow hollow. It was by no means a fatal fall, or even one that could inflict considerable damage, but it was still enough to cause a few scrapes.

"Wow…" Light breathed. "Thanks for that."

He felt rather than saw the answering nod. "You should be more careful. That could have been a nasty fall."

"Right, right…" Light gently removed himself from L's hold, heart beating slightly faster than it should have been. He took a closer look at the clearing. It wasn't very deep, and was surrounded by shallow stone walls on all sides. At the bottom, the floor was coated with a sea of pine needles. However, breaking through the needles there was a large flat rock, the perfect size for two people to sit on, with just a few feet of space to spare. "There—perfect."

L frowned. "What?"

The teen jabbed a finger down at the hollow. "There. We can eat there, where that rock is jutting through the pine needles. We can brush it off, lay down the blanket, and that will be that."

L stared up at him with narrowed eyes. "You're kidding, right?" Then he seemed to deflate. "No, you're serious."

"Deadly." Light placed the basket he'd been carrying on the ground beside L. Then he lowered himself down, managing to find his footing on the loose bed of needles. "Hand me the basket," he requested, stretching his arms up towards the top of the hollow. He took the basket when it was offered and made his way over to the flat rock, carefully placing it down atop the light dusting of needles. Then he looked back to L, who was staring down with a look of trepidation.

"What is it?" he called up to him. "Do you need me to crawl back up there and carry you down?"

L glared, but his cheeks were tinted red. "I need no such thing!"

"Are you sure?" Light teased. "You look petrified!"

His answering scowl was nothing short of adorable. L lowered himself down just as Light had, wincing as his bare feet touched the ground. Then, shoving his hands into his pockets, he irritably made his way over to the rock and sat down.

"Not yet!" Light protested, fighting back a chuckle. "Let me spread out the blanket!" He reached out and pulled L to his feet, ignoring the grumble sent his way in response. Then he reached into the basket, drawing out a blanket and spreading it over the rock. The instant the pine needles were covered, L flopped down onto the blanket with his legs stretched out in front of him. Light winced sympathetically when he saw the tiny puncture marks in the bottoms of L's feet. It was no wonder he was choosing to sit normally rather than placing all of his weight on his damaged feet. "Geez, L, are you sure you're okay?"

"Just eat," the detective grumbled. "The sooner you're done, the sooner we can leave."

_I know what'll cheer you up._ Light reached into the basket once more, first removing the mini sandwiches he'd made, then removing two cans of soda and a large bag of barbeque potato chips. Then, lastly, he pulled out what he was after. A plastic tupperware container containing a large slice of strawberry cheesecake. "Oh L," he called softly, smirking when the detective's head shot up. "I brought your favorite!"

L's eyes tracked the cake hungrily, and his fingers twitched as if to grab it.

"Oh no you don't!" Light insisted. "You have to promise me that you'll act civil while we eat and not complain, and _then_ I'll give you the cake."

The detective fixed him with a suspicious glare. But then, slowly, that suspicion melted into a gentle weariness. "This…is really important to you, isn't it?"

He gave a solemn nod. "It is." _I don't expect you to understand…but with all this craziness taking place all around us, I just want a little bit of normalcy._

L sighed. Then he reached out a hand, gesturing for the cake. "Give it here."

Recognizing L's silent agreement, Light handed over the treat and a fork to accompany it. Then he passed L a can of soda, remarking, "I didn't really think about the fact that soda doesn't go very well with cake. I would have brought tea, but I suppose I was just too excited to think straight."

"It's fine." L stabbed a fork into the cake, shoving a monstrous bite into his mouth. Then he paused, a light smile gracing his features as the flavor hit his tongue. Light had to hold back a smirk at the sight. It was as if he became a different person whenever he tasted anything sweet.

Light opened the container of sandwiches and grabbed one, nibbling at it as he watched L enjoy his cake. This was such a rare treat for him, to be able to sit around and simply enjoy his lover's company. Even during those weeks of confinement, even during those weeks of waiting for Misa to be condemned, they had never had the opportunity to simply _be._ Even now, Light could feel a steady weight bearing down upon him—a weight that could be traced back to the looming threat of capture at Near's hands. But no—he couldn't think about that now. He needed to relax. After all, once they returned to the house, Light had a feeling that he wouldn't have much time for relaxing. They'd be working constantly to make the world a better place, as L put it. If that was what they were really doing.

"It's good. Was this just in the fridge?"

Light looked up to see L almost halfway done with the slice of cake. "Oh, no, not exactly. I asked Watari to make it yesterday because I noticed how much you enjoyed strawberries, and thought you might like it."

L tried to hide his sudden smile, but a tiny glimmer snuck through. "Is that so?" He took another bite. "Well then, thank you for considering my tastes."

"It was nothing." Light opened his can of soda and took a sip, eyes never leaving L's face.

For a while it went on like that, the two eating in silence. When it finally came to an end, L was the one who broke it.

"Say…" he murmured, staring at his fork blankly. "Light? I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Hmm? What is it, L?"

The detective shot him a sideways glance, and Light got the impression that he was nervous. "Promise me you won't take this the wrong way."

"Well…I suppose if it's necessary, then okay."

L hesitated a moment longer. Then, "This is going to sound incredibly clingy, and it's going to come off like I don't trust you. Please understand that that is not the case." He leaned forward intensely. "The way I understand it, you have numerous connections in Japan. Your family, your friends, your coworkers on the task force…need I go on?"

Light shook his head, unsure of where this was going.

"These people are all connected to you, and you are connected to me. Therefore, however indirectly, there are now many people on the outside who share a connection to L. You can see why this may be a problem. I have many enemies, you see. If one of them were to discover your connection to me, it wouldn't take long for them to find your friends and family back in Japan. They might try to take them hostage in an attempt to get to me."

The teen gave a brief nod. "Yes, I see. It makes sense that I would be able to influence you, perhaps convince you to give yourself up in order to save my family or my friends. It's not a bad plan."

"So you understand. In that case, I'm sure you've guessed what I'm about to ask you."

A noncommittal shrug, but nothing more.

L continued. "I'll just come out and ask it. If one of my enemies got their hands on your family and demanded my surrender, what would you do?"

Light's heart clenched in his chest as he realized what L was essentially asking him. "L, listen…can't we just enjoy this and drop all the heavy subjects?"

"Light, I _need_ to know."

He hesitated. "But L…you're asking me to choose between you and my family."

"Once again, you understand."

He looked away sharply. "Well…if the situation you've described did come to pass…I suppose I'd have to wait and see if there was anything I could do to put a stop to it myself. I would do anything in my power to keep my family and friends safe, and I'm sure that with the help of the NPA, we could work things out with the kidnappers."

"And if we couldn't? What then? Would you demand that I give myself up?"

Light gulped. "L, I can't answer that question. I care for you deeply, but I care for my family as well. I would never want you to have to give yourself up just to save someone I care about, but if there was no other way to save a member of my family…" _To save Sayu. To save mother._ "Then…"

"Then?"

He clamped his teeth down on his lip, tasting blood. "I don't know!" he burst out, feeling heat beginning to build in his cheeks. "L, why are you making me choose? I love you both!"

Silence fell, and L stared blankly. "What?" he whispered.

Light recoiled, realizing too late what he'd said. "I l-love my family," he stuttered. "And I care about you. So if I had to choose, I don't know what I'd do."

L drifted closer gingerly, keeping his feet off the ground as he inched towards him. "That's not what you said."

"L, please—"

"You said you loved us _both."_ He moved closer. "You love your family." Closer still. "You love _me_."

Now he was uncomfortably close, and Light fought back a blush. _Damn, why does this still affect me? I've done so much with him, and yet just being close to him makes my cheeks go red? It's pathetic!_ "I-I didn't say—"

Yet again he was cut off. This time, though, it wasn't by words. Rather, his voice was silenced by a pair of strawberry flavored lips pressing down against his own. A tiny noise of surprise rose to the surface as Light pushed back, meekly attempting to get L off of him so they could continue their conversation. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—L had no intentions of letting him leave. And indeed, in a single, fluid motion, L had him pinned firmly beneath him. Wrists held firmly above his head, body pinned by L's lithe form, Light found himself completely defenseless. He closed his eyes, waiting for L to kiss him again. But when nothing came, he opened his eyes once more in surprise. "L?"

He blinked when he his lover hovering above him. The detective was simply sitting there, suspended mere inches from his face, and staring. He showed not a sign of moving, fixing his gaze on Light's face and leaving it there.

"L?" Light repeated. "What…?"

For one moment longer he was motionless. Then he sighed, leaning down and brushing his lips to the teen's cheek. "You love me," he repeated quietly. "And yet…you wouldn't sacrifice your family to save me?"

"L, I told you…I can't choose something like that! Both of you…you're both too important to me. My family and you."

L hummed, slowly releasing Light's hands. Instead, those restraining hands wrapped around his torso, drawing him close. "I see."

A prickle of guilt crawled up his spine. He couldn't see L's face, but he was sure he was wearing a disappointed expression. But what did L expect? Did L want him to say that he valued him above everyone else, even his family? Did he want him to say that he was loyal to him and only him? Loved him and only him? It wasn't true. It wasn't healthy for him to think that way. To ask him to choose between his family and his lover…it was a terrible question.

"Please, L," Light rasped, raising one of his newly freed hands to cup the detective's cheek. "Please understand—me not being able to choose doesn't mean I care for you any less."

L buried his face in the crook of the teen's neck, and when he spoke, his voice was so muffled that he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

_I want more than that._

Was that really what L had said?

He wasn't given the opportunity to think any further about those words, thought, for L was on him a moment later. He could barely think as those domineering lips crushed against his, coaxing him to participate in the harsh kiss. The teen vaguely felt L's tongue force its way past his lips, felt fingertips dragging below the hem of his shirt, felt the cloth sliding up over his chest. _What, he wants to do this here? Is he insane?_

"Hey!" Light protested, pushing him away slightly. "Not here, you dolt!"

"Hmm…" L ignored him, diving down and laving his tongue across the teen's collarbone. He nipped gently, and Light couldn't help a tiny moan at the flicker of pain. "Are you sure you don't want to do this here, Light?" L crooned, grinding into him roughly. "I'm not sure you could wait if we decided to head back to the house."

"Not sure _I_ could wait?" Light panted. "You're in the same situation as me, you know."

"True." L released his shirt, leaving it resting high on his chest, and his hands latched onto Light's hips. "Perhaps we should remedy our situation, then. Here."

"You're crazy. I'm not letting you take me in a forest."

"Aww, but Light…" L nuzzled into his chest, purring like a cat. "You love forests so much. Is it really so undesirable to do it here?"

"O-of course, you bastard!" Light's teeth clamped down on his tongue to stop himself from moaning as L continued to grind into him. "We should go back to the house if you're going to pull stunts like this!"

L drew back sharply, and for a moment Light thought he'd won. But then he felt the hands at his waist pull upwards suddenly, and the next heartbeat he was being flipped onto his stomach, hips yanked up into the air. "Shush."

Light opened his mouth to respond, but L was swift to take away any words he may have had. The detective moved quickly, draping his body across his back like a heavy blanket. One arm snaked around Light's chest, palming across the skin curiously. However, that wasn't the arm that had taken his breath away. That honor lied with L's other hand, which had shot straight between his legs to massage his growing arousal. He choked out a low moan at the movement, able to do nothing as L rubbed himself against him, all the while torturing him with slow, fiery touches.

"That's it," L murmured. "It feels good, doesn't it? It would be a shame to end this now."

In the back of his mind, Light knew it would be best to return home. But in the forefront of his mind, all he could do was agree with a shallow nod. He arched back into L's touch mindlessly, feeling the detective's excitement through his pants. A soft chuckle sounded in his ear, and the next moment cool fingers were slipping past his waistband and venturing dangerously close to the teen's arousal.

It felt heavenly—so much so that Light almost didn't feel the tiny drop of water land on the back of his hand. But he did feel it, the cool liquid a burning contrast against his fiery skin. And a moment later he felt another on his other hand, then one on his back, then on the back of his head, then on his shoulder. He frowned, eyes flitting up towards the sky.

L felt it too. He paused in his movements, hand removing itself from Light's front in favor of settling on the blanket below them. The teen felt L lean back to stare at the sky, laughing when he heard a dissatisfied sound leave the detective's throat.

"Well, this is unfortunate," L mumbled, not entirely drawing back. "I seem to recall the sky being completely clear this morning."

"Yes, indeed…" Light glared at the cloudy sky as if it had done him a personal offense. Before they left, it had been a cloudless, beautiful day. But now clouds had gathered, thick and dark, covering the sun like a blanket. That was the cause of the water drops currently sprinkling down from the sky. And with every passing moment, those drops only seemed to be increasing in size and frequency. "It's beginning to rain."

The detective heaved a great sigh. "I suppose we should go in. We didn't even have the time to eat a proper lunch. All in all, a rather pointless and unpleasant trip."

"We'll just have to finish up inside," Light suggested, rolling onto his back. He was still caged in by L's arms, but he wasn't nearly as trapped as he'd been but a moment previous. "Is that acceptable?"

L stared down at him, clearly trying to gauge the intentions of the younger man beneath him. Then he sat back, releasing Light and allowing him to sit up. "I suppose so, yes." The detective got to his feet with a wince, no doubt still feeling the pine needles jabbing at the bottoms of his feet. He held out a hand, yanking Light up.

The teen took a moment to brush off his clothing, which was now spotted with dark droplets of water. Then he moved for the food, sealing the containers and beginning to pack them into the basket. Finally he removed the blanket and shoved it inside, the whole time being pelted with increasingly cold drops of rain. The storm was really picking up.

"Come on," L called above the light patter of droplets striking the ground. "Let's get inside before we get soaked!"

Light slung the basket over his shoulder and pulled himself up and out of the clearing, which was slightly more difficult now that the rain was making the ground slightly slippery. Once he was up, he reached back down and hauled L up. He didn't miss the tiny wince on his friend's face, and figured out immediately that the needles must be jabbing into his feet again. Really, what a fool he was! Who went shoeless into a pine forest? "Seriously, L," he sighed, making sure the basket was secure. "Your sense of fashion has caused far too many problems today. Now…" He stepped forward swiftly, not giving L a chance to protest as he hooked one arm behind his knees and one arm beneath his shoulders. He hefted the detective up, holding him against his chest. It was a bit awkward, seeing as L was just a bit too tall for this kind of thing, but it was far better than listening to him complain all the way through the forest.

"Hey!" L protested, struggling briefly. "I'm supposed to be the one carrying you, not the other way around! I'm in control here!"

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware that you're on top." Light smirked down at his lover deviously. "Still, though, you're the one that decided going barefoot was a good idea. It's _your_ fault I have to carry you out, so you should be the one apologizing to me, not the other way around."

The detective pouted, lower lip puffing out slightly. "I'll punish you for this."

Raising a brow, the teen asked, "You'll punish me for making sure you don't hurt yourself further?"

"Hmm…" L leaned into Light's chest, seeming to revel in the warmth even as his words attempted to push him away. "Maybe I just want an excuse to punish you."

He laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "If that's what you want, then who am I to oppose you?" He was picking his way through the forest now, nearing the break in the trees that would lead to the field behind the orphanage. It wouldn't be long now. Unfortunately, no matter how little time it took, it seemed that they would be thoroughly drenched. Light's clothing was heavy and dark with rain, and L's white shirt was practically see through. It wasn't a particularly malicious storm—no howling wind, no bending trees, no bullet-like rain—but it was fierce in its own gentle way, pelting them with soft, consistent droplets.

Light broke through the last line of trees, shoes finally striking the soft grass surrounding the orphanage. There was a decent sized field of grass before them, and at the end of that field stood their quarters. Unable to hold back an amused huff at being stuck out in the middle of a field in the rain, he took one step forward—and slipped. He barely managed to catch his balance, shoes sliding on the muddy earth. Then he laughed, loud and wild, heart pounding.

"Careful!" L insisted once he was steady, clutching his shoulders tightly. "Don't get me covered in mud!"

Light's entire form pulsed with exhilaration. His heart was still pounding from the close call, and excitement was coursing through his veins. He'd never felt so free before, out in the rain with no one watching but L. Laughing, he set L back on his feet and kicked off his own shoes, grabbing them and shoving them on top of the blanket in the basket. It would get muddy, but who cared?

"What are you doing?" L called above the din of the storm. "Done carrying me so soon?"

Rolling his eyes, Light shot back, "We're on soft grass, you'll be fine! Now come on, let's get back!"

L opened his mouth, most likely to inquire further, but Light didn't give him the chance to speak. Instead, he reached out a hand and wrapped it around L's wrist, pulling him forward. Their pace was a mere brisk walk at first. But as the storm raged on above them, spraying water down upon the earth, Light couldn't help but break into a trot, then a jog, then a run—all the while pulling L behind him. Mud was splashing up onto the bottoms of his jeans with every step, water was soaking him to the bone and turning his clothing into a soggy mess—but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't have to care.

L yelled something behind him, voice barely cutting through the rain. "Slow down! Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Just come on!" Light called back, shooting a glance over his shoulder. He choked back laughter as he saw L, hair flattened into a matted mess, splashing through the mud after him. Their quarters were close now, a minute or so away. _Just a bit faster._ Light tugged L's wrist one last time before he lost his footing, and this time he really _did_ fall, crashing to the ground on his back and accidentally pulling L down with him. Before he knew what was happening, L was stretched across him for the second time that day.

The detective's fingers pressed into the mud beneath them, pushing up until he was hovering above his lover. "Light?"

The teen smirked, hands shooting up to cup the sides of L's face. He pulled him down once, briefly, for a short but sweet kiss. He simply stared for a heartbeat, hoping to convey to L just how he was feeling in that moment, just what was going through his head.

L's eyes widened, and Light guessed that he understood.

"Come on!" Light called over the storm, pushing L back and staggering to his feet. The detective was soon to follow.

This time L was the one that took Light's wrist in hand, tugging him towards the house. And with the detective leading the way, it took no time at all to reach the front door. L hauled the two of them up the steps and reached for the fingerprint lock.

"Your hands are muddy," Light pointed out with a laugh, taking one of his lover's hands and cleaning it off on the blanket in the basket. "There, try it now."

L fumbled slightly with the lock before getting it open and yanking Light into the house by his collar. The door closed behind them with a hollow thud. The basket hit the ground and stayed there.

A moment after that, L was on him.

Light barely had time to blink before L grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the door. The detective's lips were on his a heartbeat later, ravenous and unyielding. After being delayed out in the forest, he seemed eager to get on with things now that they were inside. L wasted no time in prying his lips apart and shoving his tongue inside, and soon they were engaged in a fierce kiss. Light found himself completely immobilized by L's grip, unable to do anything but whimper and press closer.

An approving growl rumbled low in L's throat, his hands dipping to grip around Light's waist firmly. The teen found himself pressed into the door with no room to maneuver. He barely had the room to raise his hands and drape them around L's neck, urging him just a little bit closer, then even closer still, until he felt as if he were about to melt into the detective's embrace.

"L," Light murmured, every kiss stealing just a bit more of the breath from his lungs. "L, the bedroom…" He trailed off as the detective kissed him again, then again, and again after that. Then those lips dipped slightly lower, nipping along his jawline, and the teen's voice manifested in the form of a moan.

"Not yet," L insisted in a low tone, still nipping at his lover's skin. "Just a bit longer…"

Light opened his mouth to protest, but was unable to voice his protests due to L's teasing. A hiss left his lips as one of the detective's hands ghosted over the bulge forming in his pants, applying just enough pressure to drive him crazy without bringing him the friction he so needed.

L chuckled as he heard the tiny sounds his lover was emitting. But he said nothing, and a moment later he was drawing back and hooking an arm around Light's waist, pulling him towards the stairs. Light went along with him easily, and soon they were practically dashing up the stairs to the bedroom. Once inside, Light wasted no time in discarding his muddy shirt. To his dismay, the mud had dirtied the skin of his arms and chest, and some had splashed up onto his cheek as well. He used his shirt to wipe off as much as he could, but there was far too much to clean off entirely. Looking over, Light saw that L was in the same situation.

"We should take a shower first," Light suggested, wincing at the sensation of grit against his skin.

L gave a hasty nod, tossing his soiled shirt aside. "Fine, then, let's go." He stripped himself of his pants as he went, the muddy garments landing in a damp pile on the bedroom floor. By the time he reached the bathroom and turned on the shower, he was completely naked.

Blushing furiously, Light averted his gaze. "I'll just wait outs—"

"Like hell you will. Get in here." L didn't even wait for a response, reaching outside and grabbing Light by the arm. A single yank had the teen stumbling into the bathroom after his lover, and the door closed behind them just moments after that.

"Hey!" Light yelped, but L was having none of it. The detective's hands dipped to Light's belt and undid it smoothly, ignoring the teen's squirming as he yanked his pants down in one smooth motion. "L, come on—!"

L smirked up at him devilishly. His fingers hooked in the teen's waistband, and Light found himself holding his breath in anticipation of the moment L bared him entirely. But all he received was a soft laugh, and the next moment L was whirling around and turning the shower on. "Come on," L shot over his shoulder, lips quirking upwards at the confused expression on Light's face. "Do you want to join me or not?"

Light blinked, freezing momentarily. Then he shook himself out of his daze, reaching for his boxers at the same moment that L slipped into the now steaming shower. Ignoring the twinge of embarrassment and arousal he felt at stripping down in front of his lover, he yanked off his boxers and finished undressing himself. Then he stepped towards the shower and allowed L to pull him inside. The door closed, and Light had the sudden feeling that he was trapping himself alone with a monster. But still, he allowed it to happen. He _wanted_ it to happen.

The detective didn't disappoint him. He pulled Light close the moment the doors closed, water beating down upon them and washing away the remnants of the mud they'd fallen in. For a moment they simply stood there, embracing beneath the constant stream of scalding water. Then L drew back, lips curved in an adoring smile. "Light," he murmured, his tone low—and then he was kissing him once again.

This time, it didn't last long. L only pressed their lips together for a moment before turning his attention on his favorite spot—the bruised juncture between Light's shoulder and neck. As he lapped and sucked at the already aching skin, his hands slid smoothly down Light's slick sides until they reached his waist. His fingers caressed the skin there momentarily before dipping even lower. Light couldn't hold back a loud gasp as one of L's hands snaked around and gripped his ass, the other darting in the opposite direction and palming his stirring arousal.

A low chuckle sounded, and Light could practically feel the lust rolling off of L in waves. "You haven't changed in the least, you know," he purred, rubbing teasingly at the flesh around Light's cock. "You're still so sensitive…"

A rush of heat filled the teen's body, and he found himself pressing closer to L subconsciously. His mind was beginning to cloud. "And you're—mph!" He was unable to finish, silenced by a brief but violent kiss.

"Hush," L chastised, guiding Light's arms around his waist. "You've always been so noisy when we do things like this."

Light opened his mouth to protest, but a flash of pleasure stole his breath away as his lover wrapped his fingers around him at long last, squeezing teasingly. "L!"

He felt rather than saw L's answering smirk. "Easy, now. We wouldn't want this to end too soon, now, would we?"

He could only whimper in response, bracing his back against the wall of the shower. The water made the ground slick beneath his feet, and he almost lost his balance as he struggled to remain upright. Luckily, the arm L had around his waist made sure he didn't go anywhere. He wasn't sure how long he could stay on his feet, though—not with L's ministrations slowly turning his legs to jelly.

L seemed to understand his predicament, for he swiftly secured one arm waist and coaxed him downwards, allowing him to slide down the shower wall until he found himself seated, legs splayed out in front of him, hands clutching at L's sides. Light felt something brush against the insides of his thighs, and he realized that L had slid down alongside him, and was kneeling in between his outstretched legs at incredibly close proximity. Then two hands were grasping the sides of his face, and L was brushing his lips to his, if only for a moment.

"Turn over," L murmured, pulling away and tugging at his hips lightly.

"What?" Light protested, though his heart wasn't really in it. "In the shower, L? Come on, let's just get out and—"

L leaned down, teeth grazing across the flesh of Light's neck warningly. "Not so fast. I said I was going to punish you, remember?"

"You were serious about that?" Light chuckled, though his stomach flipped with anticipation at the thought of L doing with him as he pleased.

"Now turn over," L ordered.

"It'll be uncomfortable here," Light insisted. "Can't we just—"

L's nails bit into his flesh, prompting a yelp. "Turn over. Now."

Light stared up at the detective, a flicker of uncertainty assaulting him. But then he saw it—behind L's insistent, domineering persona, there was an endless pool of warmth. He wasn't going to do anything that Light didn't want, even when he was acting in such a way. If he pushed back, L would relent. But if he was being honest with himself…

"Light?" L whispered, and his true question was obvious. _Is this okay?_

…If he was being honest with himself, then he knew that he wanted it just as much as L. "Yes, L." _Anything for you._

All uncertainty drained from L's features, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Then do as I say."

He didn't have the will to disobey. And so slowly, awkwardly, he pushed himself off the wall and rolled over, positioning himself on his knees and forearms in the center of the shower floor. He found himself grateful that L's shower was unusually large, making it far more comfortable than it would have been otherwise. That didn't mean it was entirely pleasant, however—the marble, though warmed by the water, was hardly plush surface.

"Very good," L praised, fingers tracing down his sides approvingly. "Now…"

The teen bit back a moan as L scored his nails lightly down his back, the water from the showerhead soothing the pain as the detective worked his way lower, until both hands were sealed around his hips. They didn't stay there for long before L dragged them even lower, one wrapping around to pump Light's arousal, the other reaching back and pressing at the teen's entrance, rubbing lightly around the rim. The teen found himself arching back into the touch, despite the fact that L hadn't yet used anything for lubrication, and to take things any further would hurt quite badly.

"Good, good…" L repeated hoarsely, finger pressing in just slightly, beginning to work the teen open. The hand at his cock never slowed, making coherent thought almost impossible.

"L…" he moaned, the detective's teasing beginning to drive him towards the edge. "Please…"

There was a low hum, then the sensation of L's hand pulling away from his ass. The next moment, a set of hot fingers curled around his wrist, tugging his arm out from under him and bringing it back behind him. Light barely managed to keep his balance, swiftly leaning his weight onto the other arm.

"L? What are you…?"

He cut himself off in a gasp as he found something cool and slick sliding across his fingers, coating the flesh and being spread between each finger. He wasn't sure what it was, but the texture told him that it was most likely the scentless conditioner that he kept for his hair. His hand was being manipulated, then, L working swiftly to tuck all of his fingers tight against his palm, leaving but one free. The teen's brow furrowed as he struggled to puzzle out just what L was planning.

He didn't have to wait long.

A sharp breath left him as he felt his own finger being pressed into him, touching lightly at his entrance and pausing. L's hand was still at his wrist, guiding him.

"L," he breathed again, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Do you want…?"

"You know what I want," the detective purred, bringing his lips close to his lover's ear so that his breath tickled the skin. "If this is meant to be your punishment, why should I be the one to do al the work?"

There was a meaningful push at his wrist, and the breath was stolen from his lungs.

"Go on," L prompted huskily. "I want to see you do it."

He gulped. "L, I…"

Another nudge, this one more impatient. L was eager to continue, it seemed—and who was Light to deny him?

Light took control of his hand, rubbing the tip of his finger over the rim hesitantly. He hadn't done this in so long…and it didn't help that L was watching him so intently. But he knew that he couldn't disappoint his lover—and so slowly, forcing his uncertainty down beneath the surface, he pushed his slickened finger in just one knuckle deep. He tensed, waiting for pain. But none came, and so with L's gaze burning a hole in his back, he pushed in even further. Still, there was no discomfort—and so he pulled his finger back out, inserting it again a moment later, and slowly began to build a rhythm. It was slow, far slower than L normally did it, but he was so nervous that he could barely keep control of his motions.

L seemed to sense his nervousness. His grip on his wrist tightened, and he murmured, "Easy, now…if you're too nervous, let me guide you."

He was all too eager to obey. Light let L take over, guiding his hand and increasing the pace steadily. L had always been talented at this—and as always, it took only a few minutes for all of Light's uncertainty to wash away, a tide of pleasure claiming him. Soon L was coaxing him to add another finger. Then, after that, another. And soon, in a span of time that Light couldn't quite quantify, he was pumping three of his own digits in and out of himself, squirming at the pleasure and on the verge of begging for more. L's hand had left his wrist, and he wasn't even sure when it had happened. All he knew was that the steady motion of his fingers, pushing and pulling in a torturous rhythm, was about to make him lose his mind.

A low groan drew his attention. Looking over his shoulder, Light was surprised to see L's gaze locked firmly him practically drooling over the sight of his lover working himself so desperately on his own fingers. One of L's hands was wrapped around himself, stroking slowly as he visibly struggled to restrain himself. His other hand, which had left Light's arousal long ago, worked to support himself on the slick floor of the shower.

Light couldn't hold back a moan at the sight of L stroking himself, skin flushed and glistening. _Is this how he feels when he sees me doing this?_ he questioned, the coil of heat in his stomach tightening at the thought.

"Light…" L groaned, drawing his attention. The detective was panting audibly now, and it was obvious that he would he able to hold back no longer. He too was losing himself. "Light, I need…!"

"Yes," the teen breathed, pushing back onto his own fingers more and more desperately with every moment. "L, please—!"

The detective lurched forward unsteadily, taking hold of Light's wrist and yanking his hand away from his entrance. The teen immediately braced himself, knowing what was coming—and sure enough, a moment later there were nails biting into his hips, and L was pushing his way inside without warning.

The detective was rough, as always. He pushed in with one, long thrust and stayed there momentarily, head lowering to rest against Light's back as he grappled with the overwhelming pleasure he was no doubt feeling in that moment. He didn't want it to be over so soon, it seemed—and so he stayed there, chest heaving, just long enough to regain his head. For Light, those few seconds were torturous. The dull ache that came of L forcing his way inside so swiftly only served to heighten his pleasure, and the sensation of L holding himself still within him was dangerously close to driving him mad.

"L!" he groaned, pushing back and gasping as the detective unintentionally ground into his sweet spot. "Mmm…"

His moans had an obvious effect on L, who hissed out, "Shit, Light…" His grip tightened, and the next moment he was forcing out, "I'm going to move. Is that—?"

"Just do it!"

L wasted no time. Keeping a secure hold on his lover's hips, he pulled out almost entirely, then pushed back in at full force. There was no time to adjust. The little games they'd played had taken their told on L's endurance, and now the detective seemed unable to hold himself back as he began to thrust, rhythm harsh and unfaltering. It wasn't long until the only sounds between them were low moans and the slick sound of flesh striking flesh, breathless exclamations piercing the air every time L slammed into the spot that made Light see stars.

Before long, L's rhythm began to falter. His thrusts began to fall out of time, growing faster and choppier as he built towards his end. And Light, feeling the ache in his core intensifying, reached a shaky hand towards his cock in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort.

L slapped his hand away the instant he noticed where it was headed. "No," he breathed, breath rolling across Light's shoulders as he leaned over him. "You're not allowed to touch yourself yet, do you understand me?"

The teen could do nothing but whimper, a short gasp following soon after as L thrust in harshly.

"Good," was the answering growl. "I'm going to use you until I'm finished, and then I'll _think_ about letting you cum." His voice was low and broken.

Light let out another tiny whine, wanting so desperately to bring himself to completion, but wanting desperately to please L. His desire for the latter won over, for he found his hand dropping to the ground lifelessly as L worked him.

He didn't have long to wait. A mere minute later, L's thrusts finally began to grow short, his breath clipped and uneven as he prepared to release. And then the detective pushed in just one more time, holding himself deep within his lover and letting himself go with a cry of pleasure. The teen almost came from just the feeling of L's release, hot and thick, coating his insides. But it wasn't quite enough—and so as L leaned against his back and panted, struggling to regain his composure, the teen couldn't resist the urge to beg for his completion.

"L!" he choked out, "Please…please!" He could say no more.

The detective took but a moment longer, forehead resting against his shoulder. Then he raised his head, and although Light couldn't see his face, he knew that L was smirking. "Have we learned our lesson, then?"

"Yes, yes!" he whined, though he'd forgotten what lesson he was supposed to be learning. "Please, L!"

Breath left him in a whoosh as L's fingers finally curled around his arousal, squeezing lightly. "Are you sure?"

"Please, just—!"

There was a low chuckle. Then, "In that case, I suppose you've earned your release."

Light waited, entire body tense. Then he tensed even further, a low moan escaping him as L began to pump his hand in earnest, thumbing over the head as he gave a slight twist of his wrist. It was exactly the way he liked it—fast, merciless, unrelenting—and he was so close to completion already that it didn't take much to send him over the edge.

"L!" he wailed, releasing explosively. Fluid splattered to the shower floor, immediately washed away by the water pouring from the showerhead. The teen found himself panting as he began to come down from his high, arms and legs turning to jelly. He was unable to keep himself upright—and if not for L's arms, wrapping around his middle and pulling him up so that his back rested against his lover's chest, legs splayed out in front of him, he very well may have collapsed face-first on the shower floor.

"Light…" L breathed, burying his face in the teen's shoulder. His chest was still heaving, and his skin was hot to the touch. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He could only hum in agreement, exhaustion flooding him.

L chuckled, no doubt seeing the way his lover's eyelids were drooping. He carefully maneuvered his feet under himself, rising to his feet and scooping Light up in his arms. The shower was turned off a moment later, and L was whispering, "Come on. Let's get some rest."

Another soft hum was all he got. Light's head was spinning slightly as L sat him on the edge of the counter, pulling a towel from one of the drawers and drying him off. After that, everything began to blur. Light was aware of being lifted again, being carried into the bedroom and being placed on a soft surface. The bed, no doubt. And after that he felt someone crawling into bed beside him, and an arm draping across his chest lovingly. There was a light kiss on his cheek, and a few whispered words that he could barely hear.

_I love you, Light._

And although he wasn't even sure if he'd heard correctly, he couldn't stop himself from grinning foolishly in response.


	32. The Eight of Cups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnddddd, there! All caught up! Well, for those of you that have been following this story exclusively on this site, I hope you enjoy reading these chapters!

Beyond shook his head sadly, watching L and Light tear across the muddy field in the direction of their house. He'd been watching the two of them since they left the house at midday. They'd headed off to the forest, which wasn't much of a surprise. Light loved nature, after all. Unfortunately, Light also seemed to love the man he was currently half-carrying across the field. Beyond had tried very hard to keep Light away from L, but for now, it seemed he'd failed. Light was happy with L, fat least for the moment, which was truly unfortunate. But it wasn't so surprising in the end, considering how good L was at wrapping people around his little finger and rendering them completely blind to his true nature.

_Poor Light._ Beyond watched with a heavy heart as L and Light disappeared into the house, the door slamming harshly behind them. He had no doubt as to what the two of them would be up to now.

_Don't worry, Light,_ he thought somberly. _I wasn't able to persuade you to leave L, but I can certainly persuade him to do something so unspeakable that you'll no longer want to be with him. All that talk of having connections in Japan…it may have been true, but I only told L because I knew he'd try to do something about it. And no matter what he does, when he tries to eliminate those connections, he'll end up hurting you. What I'm hoping is that that pain will be enough to chase you away from him for good. It's wrong…but it's the only way I can save you._

He realized that his hand was stretched out towards the house, as if intent upon climbing down from the tree he was perched in and storming inside to rescue Light like some kind of knight in shining armor. The thought made him laugh. He was no knight, no hero. No one really was, not in this situation. Light was the closest thing to a hero there was in the midst of this whole mess, and even he had done terrible things. Funny, how that worked out.

"Beyond! What are you doing up there?"

Of course. He _would_ be the one interrupting him right now. Beyond cast an irritated look down at the foot of the tree, and sure enough, Near was staring up at him with those emotionless gray eyes. It took only a moment to slip into his familiar persona. "Well hello there, snowflake! What brings you here at this time of day?"

"I could ask you the same, Beyond. What do you think you're doing perched up in a tree like that? Spying on L?"

He shot the boy a toothy grin, responding, "What else would I be doing? You know how much he fascinates me." Not a complete lie, but L wasn't the one he was interested in at the moment.

Near shook his head. "In any case, you should come down. I need to speak with you."

"Is this about your little stunt?" Beyond inquired. "You know, when I told you to confront L, I didn't expect it to be in a live message that went out to the entire world. Did you consult Mello before you did it?"

"He was the one that suggested it. Why, did you think there was something wrong with it?" His tone was jaded and petulant.

"There was nothing _wrong_ with it, per say. It was just a bit…well, a bit tactless. I would have used a bit more subtlety."

"You? Subtle? Don't make me laugh."

The man smirked, flipping his hair away from his scarlet eyes. "Touché. Now, what is it that you want?"

Near crossed his arms, insisting, "Come down from there. This isn't a conversation that should be held in anything above a whisper. We certainly shouldn't be yelling back and forth so close to L's window."

Beyond looked over at said window thoughtfully. Hmm, he had a point. "Very well." He got to his feet, balancing on the narrow branch by leaning his weight on the trunk. Next he judged the height, wondering if he would hurt himself if he jumped. Evidently, he decided that he wouldn't—for the next moment he was launching himself off the branch and crashing to the earth below, feet tingling rather harshly as they made contact with the ground.

Near stared with wide eyes. "You're insane."

He shrugged. "So I've been told."

Gray eyes narrowed slightly, but the boy didn't comment further on the subject. Instead, he turned and gestured towards the cluster of trees that stood in the middle of the courtyard, which was just a short way off the dorms and L's quarters. "Come with me. Mello is waiting."

"So you've involved blondie in this, have you?"

"You were the one who suggested it. Insisted upon it, actually."

"Hmm. So I was." They were walking now, not far from the cluster of trees—and sure enough, a flicker of blonde hair was visible from between the trunks. Mello. And was that a flash of reddish brown hair beside him? Matt, no doubt.

"Oi, Near!" Mello stepped out from behind one of the trees, a nasty glare on his face. He hadn't changed. "Get your ass over here!"

The white-haired teen sighed deeply, no doubt exasperated with the explosive blonde. "Yes, yes…" A few steps later they were all gathered together. Looking around, Beyond saw that as he'd suspected, Matt was with Mello. However, unexpectedly, the shinigami was there as well.

"Mello," he spoke up, ignoring the glare the teen was shooting his way. "I take it Near explained everything to you?"

The blonde momentarily turned his glare on the shinigami, giving a short nod. "Yeah, he told me all about it. Shinigami, deadly notebooks, heart attacks—the whole nine yards. A whole load of bullshit, if you ask me."

_Bullshit? But he can see the proof right in front of him._

Mello went on, "Don't get me wrong—I can see the shinigami, and I've seen proof of the notebook's power. That doesn't mean I accept it. I'm more inclined to believe that I've lost my mind."

A short bark of a laugh sounded from Matt, though his eyes never left his game. True to character, he said nothing.

"So, we're all gathered together at last," Beyond spoke up, eager to move the conversation along. "One big happy family, yeah? So what's the big idea? Why now?"

Near glanced around them cautiously, as if searching for anyone that might be spying on them. Then, "All of us have become involved in this—something bigger than we truly know. Because of this, I have decided to take your advice, Beyond, in discussing all ideas with the group before implementing them. It's not normally how I operate, you understand. But because you were so pivotal in getting me the Death Note and helping me see that L is our true suspect, I've made the decision to do as you say. This makes us even."

_So in other words, he's grown unsure of his actions and wants a second opinion. He'd never admit it, though—that's why he's using my request as an excuse._ "You're too kind, Near."

The pale teen shot him an annoyed glance. "Let's just get this over with. First, let's go over what we know." He held up a finger pointedly. "We know that L is Kira, first of all. We also know that he's been using the Death Note to commit his murders. In addition, judging by the convenient timing, we can safely say that Light Yagami is also acting as Kira. We can assume that they are working together as a team, and also that they are involved romantically. I suggest that our main goal be to take them both down as quickly as possible."

Beyond's heart skipped a beat. _Of course he'd want to take them both down. He doesn't know that Light is just a pawn in all of this, drawn into L's web._

"Yeah, sounds good." Mello leaned back against the tree, crossing his arms. "Let's just sneak into their house and put a gun to their heads. Who needs a confession when we can just blow their heads off?"

This time Beyond was unable to stop himself from jolting just a bit. _No, I won't let you kill him! He won't die like A!_

Luckily, Near to his rescue, however unknowingly. "Mello, you are well aware that I don't operate like that. I will never allow you to simply kill our suspects. However, I'm not exactly pleased about letting the two Kiras kill anyone they like while we stand by doing nothing. Therefore, our next course of action should be swift and fierce. We can't allow any more criminals to die needlessly."

"Who needs 'em?" Mello snorted. "They're scum, all of them."

"Weren't you involved with the mafia, Mello?" Near inquired.

"That was years ago!"

"That _would_ be your excuse," the white-haired teen muttered in response. "But as I was saying, we need to make our next actions decisive. We must take down L and Light cleanly and smoothly."

"And I suppose you have a plan?" Beyond asked.

"I have the beginnings of one, yes."

"Oh, excellent!" the murderer exclaimed, feigning great excitement. "It's absolutely fantastic that you've come up with a plan all on your own! Now forget all of it, and let's start over and go with _my_ plan."

"What?" Near sputtered, as a few feet away, Mello raised his head slightly in surprise. Even Matt looked up.

"Just listen here, got it?" Now it was Beyond's turn to raise a finger, shaking it at Near as if he were scolding a puppy. "I'm going to make myself perfectly clear here. At this point, I've spent months observing both L and Light. From those months of observation, I have learned that L is the one behind the majority of the murders—and the ones that he does not commit are _orchestrated_ by him. In other words, _he_ is Kira. Not Light."

"Surely you're not suggesting that Light is innocent?" Near questioned. "It matters not whether he was the one orchestrating the deaths or not. In the end, he still went along with L in using the Death Note—and that makes him guilty. He will be punished."

_No, Near, this is not his fault. You will not harm him, not so long as I'm here._ "Listen to me, I implore you. I have been watching the two of them for _months_. In that time, Light hasn't done anything unnecessarily malicious. His actions have all been to create what he believes to be a better world."

"Yeah," Mello scoffed, "but you could say the same thing about L."

"No, you couldn't. Unlike Light, L has slaughtered innocent people in the name of creating his better world. Misa Amane, for example. Now, I wouldn't exactly call her innocent, but she certainly didn't deserve death. L even promised our dear Light that he wouldn't kill her. And yet, the instant his back was turned, he took to the Death Note and slaughtered her like an animal." He paced forward slightly, putting himself directly between Mello and Near. "On the other hand, we have Light. He's killed criminals that have already been judged by the courts and sentenced to death. He's never taken the life of an innocent person. Therefore, we cannot possibly give them both the same punishment. It's not just."

Mello snorted, "This world isn't a just place. That's the whole reason for Kira's existence. The way I see it, L and Light are both guilty. We'll take them both in and let the courts decide what to do with them."

_"No."_

The three successors all looked up in surprise. Beyond was usually so animated, so _crazy—_ and so to see him so serious must have been a tremendous shock.

Near was the one to voice such sentiments. "How strange," he murmured. "You're so serious. You must really care about this."

He didn't respond. What could he say? That he cared about protecting Light because he reminded him of A? The successors had never been told the tragic tale; it wouldn't mean anything to them. Neither, then, would explaining Light's similarity to A.

"Beyond?" Near prompted.

"Make me a deal," he said suddenly. "I'll help you take down L and Light. Then, in the end, you can do whatever you want to L. I won't protest, obviously, since I'm not very fond of him."

"And Light?"

He swallowed hard. "Let me deal with him."

Mello barked out a harsh laugh. "You honestly expect us to just _let you deal with him?_ You're not exactly a good person, who's to say that you won't just run off and help him start murdering people again?"

Beyond ignored him. "I want you to forget he was ever involved in any of this. Leave him to me."

Near narrowed his eyes. "No, no—I want to hear the answer to Mello's question. If we turn Light over to you, what's to stop him from simply continuing his work as Kira? What's to stop him from turning to more violent means to create his perfect world, even if the notebooks are returned to the shinigami?"

"Obviously I'll be there to stop him," was Beyond's answer. "Let me be perfectly clear—my offer is not just to take Light off your hands, but to watch over him and make sure that he doesn't stray from the _righteous_ _path_ , as I'm sure you would call it. If he ever starts killing people again, I'll be quick to put an end to it. But as I said, L is the only reason he's using the Death Note. I suspect that he doesn't truly want to continue killing, but he's doing so anyway, just to keep his captor happy."

The successors exchanged uncertain glances.

"Please consider this carefully," Beyond said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Near was the first to speak. "Before we decide anything, I want you to tell me one last thing. If we decided to refuse you your request, what would you do?"

He scoffed. "Well that's easy, snowflake. I'd have to protect Light."

"And just how far would you go?"

"Well…" He stared up at the three through half-lidded eyes. "That all depends on how far _you're_ willing to go. If you tried to kill him, for example…well, I think you can imagine the results."

Mello whistled lowly. "Geez, why are you so serious about this?"

Again, a truthful answer would have been impossible. "I'm afraid that's between Light and me. Now are you going to grant my request or not?"

Once again, looks were exchanged between all three successors. And once they'd come to their conclusion, Near was the one to deliver the verdict.

"Very well. When the time comes, we will grant you your request. Light is yours. But be warned, Beyond—if he steps out of line and you aren't there to correct it, we will take action against him. And this time, you'll be sharing his punishment."

Relief swelled in Beyond's chest. "You have my thanks." Their eyes were still on him, though—and a moment later, he realized why. Ah, yes—he was supposed to be a lunatic. He was acting far too sane. Purposefully putting on a playful grin, he snickered, "Now, as I was saying, I think I may have a plan that's at least a hundred times better than whatever Near's dreamed up. Shall I go on?"

He received only a few short nods.

"Fantastic!" he cackled. "This is going to sound a bit cruel, mind you, but it must be done! Now, L and Light are very closely connected at this point. It's safe to say that either of them would be willing to sacrifice anything if it meant helping the other." He had to hold back a laugh. That wasn't true, and he knew it. L was still a long way off from being willing to sacrifice something of value in order to protect his lover. He would never give himself up to save Light's family, for example. That was just how L worked. Therefore, the logical course of action was… "If Light's safety were in danger, or something he cared about was at risk, I have no doubt that L would do anything in order to keep him happy. Normally, a strategy such as the one I'm suggesting wouldn't be possible on someone like L, for L has no connections and nothing he cares about. But now he has Light. And Light, as it so happens, has family and friends in Japan. So if something were to happen to said family and friends…"

"Light would be distressed, and ask L to help," Near caught on. "And if the only way to help was to admit his identity as Kira, then he would do it. All for Light."

_That's where you're wrong, snowflake. He wouldn't dare give himself up. But you don't need to know that for my real plan to work._ "Exactly! You remember that gang that L went to Japan to deal with not too long ago, right? The one involved with human trafficking? Well, if you want my suggestion, I would suggest that you go through them. I've heard that they've started becoming more active in recent weeks, so it shouldn't be hard to reach out and contact them. For the right price, and with a little encouragement, I'm sure they could be persuaded to help us kidnap Light's family and friends." _It'll force the two of them into the exact situation L has been dreading._

"That's low," Mello pointed out. "We're going to become criminals in order to catch them? What if something goes wrong and someone gets killed? We'll be just as bad as Kira."

"It's better to take that risk than to let L and Light run free," Near said determinedly. "Even if something goes wrong, the deaths will be on the hands of the gang members. But seeing as we're the ones paying them, I don't believe it will be difficult to assure their safety. So long as we tell them they won't be paid if anyone _actually_ dies, we should be in the clear." Pale gray eyes glanced between the other members of the group, checking to see if they were all in agreement. Finding no resistance, he continued, "If there are no dissenters, then I believe we have our plan of attack. After we obtain the required evidence, we'll put L behind bars and hand Light over to you, Beyond. Any objections?"

Silence.

"In that case, I will head back inside and find a way to contact the gang members in Japan. Beyond, will you be going there to make sure everything goes smoothly?"

"That's my specialty."

"Very well. You should leave for Japan as soon as possible. I'll contact you and give you directions when you've arrived. Understood?"

"Of course." Beyond turned away, hiding his face from the successors. "If that's all, I think I'll be going. I'll rest tonight and leave in the morning."

"Good luck."

Beyond hid a guilty grimace as he began walking back towards the dorms. He had a room there, though it was seldom used. He'd rest there.

But in the meantime…his plan. He was no fool. He knew that L would never give himself up for Light's family. So the question stood—why would he send Near after Light's family if it wouldn't help him catch Kira? That was simple, really. In the end, this particular action wasn't about catching Kira. Rather, it was about driving a wedge between L and Light. As he'd told L, if the detective refused to help Light's family, then Light would be stricken with grief and betrayal. All of that trust would be shattered, and L would become increasingly frustrated as Light sank further and further into distress. It wouldn't take the detective long to revert back into his bitter, violent form. It would take even less time for him to lash out at Light and drive him away. Beyond would be waiting, just as he had waited for A to realize the same thing so long ago.

He would use the abduction of Light's family as the perfect way to push the two lovers apart. He would be there for Light when L wasn't. And then he would strike the final blow, manipulating Near into taking L down. Light would be safe, and Beyond would be there to help him set his life back on track.

But before that could happen, he needed to take the first step.

And that first step would be to hold Light's family over his head like a piece of the forbidden fruit, no matter how villainous it made him.

†††

Three days passed.

In those three days, nothing changed for Light. He worked, killed criminals, forced L to go outside for brief periods of time, and allowed the detective to pull him into bed as a reward for not complaining about the short walks they'd started taking as a means of exercise. Once again, everything was good.

But once again, it didn't take long for that happiness to be blown away.

It all started at midnight on the third day. More accurately, it all started with a phone call at midnight on the third day.

Light was collapsed at his desk when his phone rang. He'd been working with L the whole day to kill criminals, and hadn't had more than one break to get something to eat. L was ruthless, ordering him to kill more and more criminals. That was why he was currently passed out on top of his desk, cheek pressed to the Death Note he'd been using, arms splayed out over the surface of his workspace.

"Light…" L groaned, looking nearly asleep as he carved out name after name in the Death Note. "Answer your phone."

The teen gave a tiny, exhausted noise in response, reaching over and grabbing blindly for his phone. He checked the caller ID wearily. Then he brightened, recognizing the name. He answered the call with as much cheer as possible, given the circumstances. "Hey there, Sayu. What's happening?"

_"Light! I sent you a message earlier, don't you remember? You never answered, so I was worried! Are you okay?"_

Oh, of course. Sayu had messaged him at the same moment as Beyond, and as a result, Light had completely forgotten to message her back. "Sorry about that, Sayu," he apologized. He shot L a meaningful look as he rose from his desk and made his way out onto the patio outside their room. "I've been busy with the case I'm working on."

_"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Now, how's it going? Mom and dad are worried too, you know. You haven't exactly kept in touch."_

A flicker of guilt shot through him as he realized that no, he hadn't contacted any of his family members in the month he'd been in England. A month…it was hard to believe that it had been that long. "Really, I'm sorry. Ever since Kira reared his ugly head again, we've been working double-time to help our division catch him."

_"That's right,"_ Sayu sighed. _"I almost forgot about that. I heard from dad that Kira was killing again. I expected him to go back to working with that task force he told us about, but he never did. He just works on normal cases now. I wonder what happened."_

L had taken care of that. After Kira began killing again, the task force had attempted to get in contact with him through the ICPO. L, however, had no intention of working with the task force again. That was the whole reason for framing Misa, after all. And so L sent a message through the ICPO, ordering all the police agencies of the world to step back and let him deal with Kira. The NPA in particular hadn't been happy, but the detective had taken an extra minute to address them specifically. He thanked them for their help, ensured them that he would continue to work towards catching Kira, and announced that he was better off alone. For an added bit of incentive, he convinced the task force that their time would be much more valuable if they spent it trying to take down criminals in a just way.

"Who knows?" Light responded belatedly, realizing Sayu was waiting for a response. "Maybe they decided to give up."

_"That doesn't seem like dad…"_

"Well, dad isn't the one calling the shots. The ICPO is the one that ordered the NPA to stop interfering. I'm sure if it were up to dad, he wouldn't stop until Kira was behind bars."

_"Yeah, you're right."_ A soft laugh sounded through the phone. _"He's always been filled with determination."_

Light was swift to change the subject, not wishing to dwell on the Kira Case. "Now, to answer your other question. I'm doing fine, but the work is tough. I feel like I haven't had a decent break since I've come here."

_"And where are you, exactly? Not even you knew the last time we spoke!"_

"I'm in England. Isn't that funny? We used to talk about vacationing here when we were children, didn't we?"

_"Oh, yeah! Hey, that's really awesome! England, wow…I wish I could come visit you."_

"I'm sure I can convince Ryuzaki to fly you out here for a visit sometime soon." He smiled to himself at the thought of Sayu being able to see the countryside. Her eyes would go as wide as moons when she saw all the open space. "Tell me, how are mom and dad doing? I haven't spoken with them in a month!"

_"Hmm? Oh, they're fine! Like I said, dad is working really hard. And mom has been working too, doing the same thing she always has. The house is always so spotless these days…I think she misses taking care of you, to be honest. And dad…I'm sure he misses you too, but he's obviously not the best at showing it."_

"No, I'm sure he isn't." He couldn't hold back a small smile at the thought. A pang of homesickness struck him as he thought of his family, no doubt missing him dearly back in Japan. "And you? How are you doing?"

There was a slight pause. _"I'm fine, I guess. My grade in math has gone down a bit, but I've started studying with my friends Yuu and Mika, and they've helped me out a lot! It'll be back up to a B in no time!"_

"Only a B?" Light teased. "Come on, Sayu, you can do better than that!"

_"Hey!"_ she protested. _"You're so mean, big brother! But like I was saying, other than that, everything is good. I miss you a lot, though, so you'd better hurry home! Even if it's just to visit for a few days, I just…I really want to see you again."_

"Sayu…" It was funny, really. He missed his friends. He missed his father. He missed his mother. But Sayu…she was the one he missed most of all. As he'd said before, she was one of the only people he truly loved. To be separated from her for even a month was truly upsetting, even if he hadn't realized it fully until that moment. "Don't worry. Like I said, it won't be long until either I go back to Japan or you come here to visit."

_"Yeah, yeah, that's what you said. Just make it quick, okay?"_

"I'll speak to Ryuzaki right away."

_"Okay…if that's it, then…"_

A lump caught in Light's throat. "Yeah…"

_"I only really called to check up on you, so…"_

She didn't seem to want to hang up so soon. He agreed. "I'll call you again sometime this week, okay?"

_"Yeah, okay."_ She paused. _"I love you, Light."_

"Love you too, sis. See you later."

" _See you."_

There was a click, and the line went dead. Light wasted no time in making his way back into the study. "Hey, L—"

"You want me to bring your sister here to visit."

"Well, yes, if it's not too much trouble. Hey, were you eavesdropping?"

"You were speaking quite loudly; it was hard _not_ to overhear. As for Sayu, I suppose a visit could be arranged."

"Really? That's great!" Genuine excitement filled him at the thought of seeing Sayu again. "Can it be soon?"

L shrugged, though his eyes never left the notebook he was writing in. "Sometime next week is okay with me. Why don't you email your parents and find out if they'll let me fly her out?"

He was going along with it so easily…Light had almost feared that L was going to protest the visit. After all, seeing his sister would take valuable time out of their day—time that they could be using to kill criminals, track down whoever had possession of Light's former notebook, or find a way to stop Near. "I'll do that."

After that, it took only a few minutes to send a message to his parents requesting Sayu's departure the following week. And only a few minutes after that—no doubt after a good deal of debate between Soichiro and Sachiko—Light received a message from Sachiko telling him that she was fine with it. Obviously that wouldn't be the only conversation they'd have about it. There would be details to plan out, loads of them. But for now, it would be enough to send Sayu into a fit of excitement. He couldn't wait to tell her, but he knew that now wasn't the time. He wanted to surprise her with a call later in the week, perhaps in a few days. She would be so happy…he could hardly wait.

"Aren't you going to call Sayu?" L asked, a moment after Light delivered the news. "She'll be thrilled."

And Light simply echoed his previous thoughts, a dreamy smile on his face. "Later. I'll surprise her in a day or two."

The corners of L's lips quirked upwards. "I understand."

Light turned his attention back to his notebook, which was resting on his desk with the pages splayed open. After that conversation, he really didn't feel like working.

After all, it wouldn't be long before he got to see his sister again.

†††

Not too far away, Beyond was preparing to leave. He had all his things packed (which didn't amount to much), and one of the orphanage's pilots had been informed that he was going to Japan. He was supposed to leave in a few hours, directly after the sun broke the horizon. But in the meantime, there was something he needed to do.

Something he should have done a long time ago.

It was late at night. But luckily for him, he had Light's phone number. All it took was a well-worded message, and the teen was slipping from the house to meet him.

"Beyond?"

The voice sounded sleepy. And as the source of that voice drew into sight, Beyond saw that he _looked_ sleepy as well. The teen's hair was messy from rest, and his eyes were only half open, squinted against the light emanating from the moon. It was an unusually bright night.

"Beyond, why did you call me out here? You'd better not make me regret this."

"Light." The older male walked slowly up to the edge of the stairs that led up to L's house. Light was standing at the top, obviously questioning whether or not it would be smart to walk down. "I know you're uncomfortable around me, but this is a conversation that we shouldn't have so close to the house. Will you walk with me?"

Light's brow furrowed. "L says that you're not to be trusted. He called you a murderer."

He chuckled. Leave it to L to start up malicious rumors. Then again, he _had_ killed several people, so it was kind of a moot point. "Regardless of what I am, this is a conversation that we need to have. I'm leaving for a while, you see, and this is the last chance we'll have to talk for a few days."

He still seemed suspicious. But still, the teen made his way down the stairs until he was at Beyond's level. "Fine. Like I said, don't make me regret it." He looked away, the light of the moon making his skin gleam like porcelain. "A part of me already does."

Beyond's lips curved into a smile. "Then let's get going." He offered the teen his arm, not expecting him to take it. And sure enough, all he received was a fierce glare. Shrugging, Beyond chose instead to lead his companion off towards the courtyard where he'd had his conversation with Near earlier in the day. He had to admit, there was a part of him that still wasn't sure if he should tell Light the truth just yet. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, telling him about…well, about _him._

About A.

But if L wasn't going to tell him, then Beyond would have to step in. Light deserved to know, and he wanted him to understand why all of this was happening. This could be his last chance before he left for Japan. No, this _was_ his last chance to tell him before he left for Japan. After that, he wouldn't see him for at least a week while he carried out his plan. And to be perfectly honest, he was concerned with what might happen in that week. L had been good with his temper so far, controlling himself and refraining from striking Light once more. But if something happened, and he snapped while Beyond was in Japan, too far away to help…

He feared what would happen to Light.

"Hey…are you okay?" Light asked quietly. "You seem a bit less, um…"

"Crazy?" Beyond suggested with a smirk. "Don't worry about offending me, Light. I'm well aware of what I am."

The teen looked immensely uncomfortable. "You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?"

Funny…it really sounded like he cared. Maybe he did. Wouldn't that be something? "I'm quite all right, I assure you."

"Good, that's…that's good." He looked away. "So, what did you call me out here for? I was sleeping, you know."

"Ah, yes. I apologize for that. But like I said, I'm going to be leaving tomorrow morning. I wanted to speak with you one last time, and there's something important I need to discuss."

"Leaving?" Light echoed. "Where are you going?"

"I'm off to Japan again," he announced. "There's a case there that interests me, so I'm off."

Light scoffed. "Funny, I didn't take you for a righteous deliverer of justice. I can't exactly imagine you putting a criminal away."

"Well that's because I don't, Light. I'm more one for watching, and then laughing when the criminal turns on his pursuers and slaughters them all."

The teen stifled a laugh at the morbid joke, and for the first time he looked a little more at ease. "Is that so? I suppose that fits your cruel personality a bit better."

Now it was Beyond's turn to laugh, throwing his head back in delight. "You're right about that, at least."

Light hummed in fading amusement. "So," he started, clearly ready to move the conversation forward. "We're here so you can tell me something?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Beyond dipped his head, and he realized that he was hesitating. He didn't really want to tell Light about A. It still felt too personal, too deep. "I wanted you here so I could…" Once again, he found himself unable to continue. "To talk about…"

_To talk about A._

He couldn't do it. Why couldn't he do it?

"Well?" Light spoke up. "What is it?"

Beyond's mouth hung open, the words dangling on the tip of his tongue. _Just say it. Just say it. Just_ say _it._ "Light," he said slowly, mouth dry. "I asked you to meet me so…"

The teen raised a brow.

"…So I could tell you a story."

"A story?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Honestly, Beyond, are you joking?"

"Not at all, I'm afraid."

Light stared, that flicker of amusement fading slightly. "You're serious?"

"Deadly." The older man stared down at Light, a strange emotion swelling in his chest. Not love, not romantic attraction. It was more a sense of familial duty, of fierce protectiveness. He cared about this person. And because he cared about him…

He couldn't tell him. Not yet.

Logically, it didn't make sense. But he could feel it—something deep within him, something instinctual—that was telling him that he couldn't give Light the information he so desired. He couldn't tell him about A. And so instead, he would tell him something else.

One final warning.

"Once upon a time—"

Light burst out laughing, cutting him off. "There's no way you called me out here to tell me a fairy tale. Come on, Beyond, be serious!"

"I _was_ being serious. Now be quiet and _listen_."

Light stared incredulously, but showed no sign of protesting.

"Once upon a time—"

"In a land far, far away?"

"Shut up!"

The teen smirked.

Beyond, on the other hand, was not as amused. He sighed deeply, shaking his head before beginning his tale.

"Once upon a time, in a world not unlike this one, there lived two people who led lives entirely separate of each other. They were complete opposites, and anyone who did so much as look at them knew that they were striking in their lack of similarity. The first one was named Yoichi. He was the incarnation of darkness, with his smoky black hair, ashen skin, dark clothing, and even darker eyes. The second one was named Kuro. He was the incarnation of the light, with his striking blonde hair, pale skin, light clothing, and crystalline blue eyes. Together, their contrast was extreme. But despite that contrast, there was something that tied them together. And that something was power.

You see, both of them shared a terrible power—a power that gave them control of any kind of flame. It was a rare power, almost unheard of in their world, and yet it was something they shared. Solitude, too, was something that they had in common. Because their powers were so great, so horrible, they chose to remove themselves from society in order to learn to control it. For years they stayed in their own separate spheres, honing their abilities and fighting to keep control of a power so great, so overwhelming, that it nearly swallowed them up during every minute of every day. They both learned early that their power burned everything around them. It killed. And the only way to control it was to be very, _very_ careful. Eventually, through they did manage to gain control—if only precariously. And after gaining that control, they went back out into the real world in hopes of forming some kind of normal live. In towns hundreds of miles apart, two people with devastating power attempted to live their lives.

Of course, it didn't last long. People eventually found out about their powers, one way or another, and they always had to leave whatever town they settled in. It wasn't long until they'd been pushed into the same town—and as fate would have it, they ran into each other on the streets. Both of them had just intended to pass through, but the instant they laid eyes upon each other, despite their obvious contrast, they knew immediately that they belonged together. Sure enough, it didn't take long for them to fall in love. They decided to stay in the town where they'd met, harboring some foolish hope that together they would be able to keep everyone from finding out about their powers. They chose a small farmhouse on the edge of town and settled down under the agreement that they'd only use their powers if strictly necessary. They couldn't afford to be found out again.

Despite a few close calls, they managed to stay together and fight through every challenge the world threw at them. They lived under the constant of threat of being discovered, but they didn't care. They had each other. But unfortunately, it didn't last long. As time passed, and they grew closer together, the citizens of the town began to get suspicious. They never saw them actively using their powers, seeing as they hadn't let slip even a flicker of flame since they'd bought the house, but they felt that something was _off_ about the two of them. They began to suspect that they were connected to some kind of witchcraft, or some kind of black magic, and that they were staying on the fringes of town to avoid detection. The two never did anything to increase suspicion, but it didn't matter. As more and more time passed, the people became more and more certain that they were somehow evil. Their solitary lifestyle brought nothing but suspicion.

Eventually, the townspeople could take it no more, and they reached out for help from a neighboring town. There, a fierce warrior by the name of Mirai lived. They begged Mirai to come and get rid of Yoichi and Kuro. And being the upstanding citizen that he was, Mirai agreed.

The next day, Mirai arrived in the village and led a mob to the home of the two oblivious lovers. He began to attack the farmhouse. And Yoichi and Kuro, who had never faced so dire a situation, were cornered like rats. They were cornered on all sides and unable to escape. Before, when they were alone, they had never faced so dire a situation. They'd always been able to recognize when the townspeople were becoming suspicious, and when it was time to run on to the next town before they were caught and killed. But now, with the two of them obsessed with each other, they hadn't been as conscious of their surroundings as usual. They hadn't even noticed the suspicion beginning to build, and now they were unable to escape because of it. They would be killed if they didn't fight.

When the townspeople attacked, the lovers decided, as they always had before, to use their powers to protect themselves. Back when they lived alone, it had never been a problem. Whenever they got themselves into something they couldn't handle easily, they just snapped their fingers, flared up their powers, and everything resolved itself. It never caused any real damage. But now…things were different.

When the villagers broke into the house, the lovers were swift to meet them, hands alight with flames. They never wanted to hurt anyone. They just wanted to put on a good show, scare them off—just like they'd always done. Unfortunately, things didn't go well. For the time they'd been living together, they'd kept their vow to never use their powers in front of each other as a means of preventing being found out. But now, using their powers in such a massive way to scare off the mob…it all went wrong. Using so much power in such close proximity. Using so much power with such emotional intent. Using so much power after so many years of choking it back in an attempt to prevent anyone from ever finding out about it.

It was a recipe for disaster.

The instant their flames hit the open air, they exploded to life in a spectacular display, feeding off of each other. The fire licked up the walls and scorched the ceiling. It grabbed onto the clothing of the villagers. It bit at their skin. It ripped them apart. To put it simply, they lost control, and they lost control in a terrible way. And as a result, all of those villagers—all of those poor, frightened innocents, including Mirai—were slaughtered like animals. They were stricken down, and the flames ate away at them until they were nothing but ash and charred fragments of bone.

Stricken with guilt, Yoichi and Kuro struggled to stop. They struggled to put out the fire, to stop spraying it from their palms, from every pore of their being. But it was far too late for that. Their mix of high emotions, dangerous stakes, and bottled energy made it impossible to stop. Their power had been building within them for years, and now it was expelling itself in the most violent way possible. Nothing they did could have stopped it. Apart, perhaps they would have been able to get it back under control. Apart, it never would have happened in the first place. But they weren't apart, were they? They were together. They were together, and their power fed off of their love for each other, and off of their fear of losing each other. It simply kept taking and taking from them, draining them beyond repair. And then, with their home burning to the ground around them and the bodies of their enemies strewn about their one-time battlefield…their power burned them alive.

Perhaps if they'd never met, it would have ended differently. But they _did_ meet. And the moment they did, everything was lost. Or…maybe it wasn't. Perhaps, if at the first sign of danger they'd split up to keep their powers under control, they wouldn't have slaughtered all those innocent people. If only they'd—"

"So you want me to leave L," Light broke in, an annoyed look on his face.

Beyond's mouth hung open in surprise. "You didn't let me finish."

"You don't need to." Light pushed himself off of the tree he'd been leaning on. "This is going nowhere it hasn't gone before. You're going to finish the story off by telling me that I should leave L to stop our power from swallowing us whole. No, wait—you were going to say that _Yoichi_ should have stayed away from _Kuro_ so that they could both have stayed alive." He snorted, flipping his hair arrogantly. "Honestly, Beyond. Instead of telling such a long and convoluted story, you could have just told me that you wanted me to stay away from L. I wouldn't have done it, of course, but it was worth a shot. You would have saved yourself some time."

"Light, you _must_ understand!" Beyond burst out, no longer able to maintain his cool. "You can't stay with him any longer! He'll get you killed!"

"Beyond, please. I'll be fine. And besides…" The teen gave a gentle smile, one hand reaching into the pocket of the sweat pants he wore to bed. "If anything ever happens, I've got this, remember?" He held something up, and Beyond's heart constricted painfully.

That…that was…

"The necklace," Beyond murmured. _A's necklace._ "You kept it."

"Well, yeah." The teen held up the glimmering cross, the red gem catching the moonlight with a sparkle. "You were very insistent, remember? I'm happy to put you at ease if this is all that it takes."

"Light…" He trained off, staring at the teen in awe. Then his head dipped, hair falling over his eyes. "Listen to me. After this, I'm going to leave for Japan, and I won't be back for a week at the very least. I'm concerned that in that time, something is going to happen to you. And if it does, I won't be there to help you. So this will be my last warning to you. _Please_ leave L behind."

Light's gaze softened. Slowly, he brought himself forward until he was standing inches from the older man. "Beyond…" His hands drifted upwards, and soon he was cupping the sides of his face gently. "I understand that you're worried about me. But no matter what you say, no matter what you do, I will not leave L behind. I love him, Beyond. And that will never change." He drew back, though he didn't move more than a few feet away. "I wish you luck in Japan."

Beyond stared down at him, so frustrated that it almost made him want to cry. But of course he didn't, because _he_ did not _cry._ And his eyes certainly were _not_ watering. "Light, please…"

"No." The teen turned away, already beginning to walk back towards his quarters. "I'm leaving Beyond. You said that this was your last warning, right? Make sure that stays true."

The older man reached out a hand, wanting desperately to spin Light around and beg him to stay. But he knew that it would do no good. Light had to see for himself just how evil L was. If he tried to take him away now, he'd hate him forever. And so as painful as it was, Beyond had to let Light get hurt. He had to let L hurt him. He'd known that from the beginning, unfortunately.

All Beyond could do was leave. All he could do was leave, and leave with the knowledge that when he next saw Light, the world around them would have warped beyond recognition.

* * *


	33. Mannaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support, as always!

Ah, Japan…it had been far too long since he'd traveled there.

Well, to be perfectly honest, Beyond had been in Japan not too long ago. But still, it felt strangely nostalgic to return there. Or at least, it would have been if his purpose in being there wasn't completely malicious. Unfortunately, he was there on some rather morally corrupt business.

A thud drew his attention back to the scene in front of him, and he let out a tired sigh. "Come, now, you shouldn't struggle. It'll just make things harder for the both of us. Do you want me to knock you out?"

There was another dull thud as his victim struggled to get up and failed. She was a young woman, barely halfway through her first year of college. Short brown hair, hazy brown eyes to match. Formal clothing. _Boring_.

Kiyomi Takada.

The poor girl was scared out of her wits, curled up and cowering in the corner of her apartment. She lived alone, thankfully, so dealing with a roommate wasn't an issue. All it had taken was a good, solid kick, and her door had flown open. He didn't bother trying to be quiet. No one would notice, even if she screamed. Not at this time of night, and not in an apartment complex with so many empty rooms. He'd done his research into this place before he attacked it, and he was quite confident in the results.

"P-please," a tiny voice stuttered from the corner. "Whoever you are, w-whatever you want, just d-don't hurt me…"

He should probably feel guilt, causing such terror to an innocent woman. But all he felt was a vague sense of apathy, and deep beneath that, the stinging desire to make sure Light wasn't harmed in his absence. He needed to do this quickly. "I'm not the one that's going to hurt you. You can stop panicking."

Of course, she didn't listen. She simply shook further, entire body trembling as she drew her arms tighter around herself. "Please…"

Beyond sighed. He didn't know why he bothered comforting her. In a few days, she'd most likely be dead. But in the meantime, he could at least treat her humanely. He reached for his shoulder bag and pulled out one of the syringes he'd prepped before entering the apartment. It contained a mild sedative that would keep the girl out for at least a few hours. That would be all the time he needed to get her back to the gang's headquarters. They would keep her safe until the time came to act out against L.

"What is that?" Takada demanded fearfully as Beyond approached.

He stepped forward carefully, and although the girl made a feeble attempt to escape, she was too terrified to do much more than struggle weakly as Beyond grasped her arm and inserted the needle. "Stay calm. It's just to help you sleep."

Her eyes widened as she processed the words, but by that time it was far too late. A moment later she was out.

Beyond stepped back the moment the deed was done. "Sheesh," he sighed. "This is causing me so much trouble, L. If only you'd just leave Light alone, I wouldn't have to go through any of this."

His phone buzzed to life suddenly, and upon picking it up, a low voice buzzed through it. _"Beyond, have you finished subduing the girl?"_

And that would be Near, who was leading the mission. Nosy little bastard. "All finished up here," he reported blandly. "I'll take Takada back to headquarters now."

_"Good. I've had the members of the gang take Soichiro into custody already. There were a few injuries, but no one was too seriously harmed. In addition, I've had the two or three students closest to Light taken in. Like Takada, they're not exactly close friends, but it'll have to do. We need as much leverage as we can get."_

Beyond chuckled, "I doubt very much that Light will care about anyone else you've taken into custody. Takada is the only one he ever showed even remote emotion towards, and I don't believe that even she will be enough to sway him. It's more of a precaution than anything else."

_"Are you suggesting that I let the students go?"_

"I think that would be best."

There was a displeased pause. Then, _"You could have told me that earlier. But in any case, I suppose I'll take your advice. This is your plan, after all."_

"So it is."

_"That leaves us with Soichiro and Takada in custody. Beyond, I want you to move in and apprehend the remaining two targets."_

"You're not intending to take the task force into custody as well?"

_"No. I don't want to involve the NPA in this more than I already have."_

"You're going soft on me, Near," Beyond teased, though he silently agreed. If L did what he thought he would in response to this situation, the task force would be vital. They couldn't be taken in just yet. "Very well, I'll capture the last two targets. After that, we'll have the message sent to L. I'll take care of that."

_"Good luck."_

"You're too kind, snowflake."

†††

Several hours later, Beyond arrived at the home of his remaining two targets. This time, however, he was armed with a slightly different weapon.

He perched on the branch of one of the trees outside the home. He was well hidden by the leaves, but still able to look into the windows of the home to judge who was doing what and where they were. The first target was in the kitchen, presumably preparing dinner for a husband that wouldn't be returning home that night. The kitchen window was open, and the curtains were thrown back. Perfect. If she would just walk in front of the open window, then…

Beyond saw his chance. The target was standing in front of the open window, washing her hands in the sink just below it. He wasted no time. He raised the dart gun, peered through the scope to make sure his aim was true, and squeezed the trigger.

She went down easy. The dart stuck in her neck, and in a matter of seconds she was collapsed on the ground. It was mercifully quiet—the second target didn't come down from her room on the second floor. She probably hadn't heard a thing. All the better for Beyond.

He slithered down from the tree smoothly and entered the home. The door was unlocked, most likely in expectation of the husband's arrival. He didn't bother to observe the décor as he headed into the kitchen, where the first target's body was resting peacefully upon the tiled floor. It took only a few minutes to lift the body, heavy as it was, and cart it off to the car he had waiting a few houses down. If anyone would have looked out, he was sure it would have appeared quite odd. But thankfully, no one looked out, and no one bothered him. It was the dead of night, after all, and even if someone had happened to glance out their window, all they would have seen would have been a set of dark blurs against the night sky. Now, all that was left was the second target (and it was a miracle, Beyond recognized, that said target hadn't already come downstairs and realized what was going on).

Beyond reentered the house quietly and ascended the stairs. The second target's room was the second door on the right. It was open. As he approached, he saw the target sitting at her desk on her computer. It looked like she was emailing someone, and she was so engrossed in her task that she didn't notice a thing as Beyond slunk into the room. Nor did she notice as Beyond drew close enough to touch her, this time choosing to use another syringe. It would be far easier than shooting at her with a clunky gun.

In one smooth movement, he took the final step and shoved the needle into her neck, compressing it harshly and wincing as she let out a shocked yelp. The girl staggered to her feet, nearly knocking her computer off the table as she whirled around to face him. He expected to see anger in her expression. Anger, fear, shock— _anything_ of that nature. But instead, much to his shock, her expression was one of confused recognition.

"R-Rue?" she stammered, though her eyes were already drifting shut. "W-what're you…?"

She didn't get to finish before she collapsed into Beyond's arms. The man frowned down at her, confused. Rue? As in, the pseudonym Beyond had taken on not long after leaving Wammy's House? The pseudonym that L had taken from him? Did this girl…think that he was _L?_ Had this girl come into contact with L? How perplexing.

His phone gave a tiny buzz. Just as before, he picked it up and informed Near that he'd captured the two remaining targets, this time via text. He received no response. He assumed that the teen must have been busy with something else.

"Now, then," he sighed, adjusting the target so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable. With Takada, he hadn't really cared. But with this one…he felt something tugging at his heartstrings. This was Sayu Yagami, after all…one of the only people that Light truly seemed to care about.

And now she'd been taken hostage. By Beyond, of all people.

No…he couldn't feel bad about this. It had to be done. It was for Light's good.

But that knowledge didn't stop his chest from constricting painfully. _I'm no better than L for doing this,_ he reminded himself for the nth time. _No better than a monster._

_Light…I'm sorry._

†††

L laid flat on his back in bed, Light asleep beside him. It couldn't have been later than four in the morning, and yet he was unable to sleep. He was used to such insomnia, of course, having spent his entire life encouraging as little sleep as possible. But tonight felt especially sleepless. Something in the air…it just felt _wrong._ He wasn't sure how, but he knew that something was wrong. Something, whatever it may have been, had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Maybe he was just being paranoid…right?

He'd almost managed to convince himself that he was right when a knock sounded at the bedroom door. He frowned, wondering who could possibly have gotten into the house at such a late hour. After the last incident with Near, he'd had Watari replace all the locks and make sure his entire security system was airtight. The only person other than himself and Light that could get in was Watari, unless something had gone terribly wrong.

In any case, he should see just who was at the door. L slowly disentangled himself from Light, who had curled around him in the middle of the night. Slipping out of bed, he blearily made his way over to the door and yanked it open. Much to his relief, Watari was the one waiting for him just outside. "Watari," he greeted. "Is something wrong? It's rather late."

The look on the old man's face sent a bolt of terror straight through L's chest. There were tense creases around his eyes, and his expression was grave. Something was wrong. "L, I'm afraid that I've received distressing news."

The detective glanced back to make sure Light was still asleep. "What is it?"

Watari's gaze strayed into the bedroom cautiously. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe it's best for Light to be awake to hear this. This concerns him as well."

"He's sleeping," L said, annoyed. "You can tell me, and I'll pass it on to him."

"I really don't think—"

" _Watari_ ," L snapped, "tell me now. That's an order."

The man hesitated, a troubled expression on his face. "Very well, but I really must protest."

L narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

Watari cleared his throat. "A few weeks back I told you that that human trafficking gang you took down in Japan was rearing its head once again. I warned you that you should deal with the situation, but as I'm sure you recall, you chose to do nothing. Unfortunately, it seems that we're now paying the price for that oversight."

A prickle of unease nibbled at L's heart. "What are you saying?"

"From what we can tell, the members of that gang have somehow managed to discover Light's connection to you. And seeing as you're the one who took them down originally, I'm sure you can imagine their desire for revenge."

_Oh no, please don't tell me…_

"I'm afraid that they've taken both Light's family and his friend Kiyomi Takada into custody. They're holding them hostage."

"Hostage?" L hissed. "Are you sure? What are their demands?"

"We've received no demands. The only reason we know is because your former coworkers on the task force noticed Mr. Yagami's disappearance and looked into it. As it turns out, the kidnappers didn't realize that there were hidden security cameras all around the place in which they kidnapped him. The task force was able to find those security cameras after a bit of investigating, and upon reviewing them they found that the kidnappers belonged to the gang that Mr. Yagami helped you take down several months prior. After that, they were swift to uncover the fact that the members of Mr. Yagami's family had all been taken, with the exception of Light. And after they learned that Takada had vanished as well, they immediately contacted us through the ICPO for help. I assume that the gang is attempting to use Light's connection to you to make you give yourself over. However, until we receive a message from the kidnappers stating their intentions, we won't be sure of their true goals. The NPA has tried to track them down, but they've obviously relocated since the last time you took them down. There are no clues as to where they could have gone."

L felt a deep, stabbing pain slice through him. Light's family…his sole friend from his time as a student…they'd been taken from him. They were being held over his head like a bargaining chip. _This is what Beyond warned me about,_ he realized. _He warned me that Light's connections would get me into trouble. He warned me that Light's family would be taken. He warned me that Light would…that Light would turn against me once he figured out that I couldn't turn myself over to save his family. Will it happen? Will he turn on me?_

The detective started, realizing he'd been silent for an unusual length of time. "Thank you for telling me, Watari. I'll be sure to tell Light once he—"

"Is it true?"

L's heart leapt into his throat as he heard the familiar voice. Light…how long had he been awake? How much had he heard?

"Tell me it's not true, L," the teen whispered. He was on his feet, standing several feet behind him—and in the moonlight filtering in through the window, his eyes glimmered with pain. He wasn't crying, not yet—but it was obvious that he was close. "That gang…did they really take my family away?"

_No, no! Light…I was supposed to keep you from feeling this pain!_ L whirled around to face him entirely, leaving Watari standing just outside the door. "Light, it's going to be all right," he said quickly, raising his hands in a soothing gesture. "We'll get them back."

The pure and utter terror that L saw reflected in Light's eyes at that moment was enough to make him rethink that vow. "That's not possible!" Light burst out, chest beginning to heave as panic set in.

"Light!" L took a step towards him.

"No…no, stay back!" The teen staggered back, bumping into the wardrobe and nearly falling over. "It can't be true…it can't be!"

L took another step forward, ready to speak, but Watari interrupted him. "Excuse me," he said quietly, "but it may be best to administer a light sedative, just to make sure he doesn't harm himself in his shock. Is that acceptable to you?"

L stared at his mentor with alarm. "You can't be serious. I can't just—"

"No!" Light broke in, shaking his head violently from side to side. He was leaning against the wardrobe now, breath rasping in and out of his lungs raggedly. "L…please don't put me to sleep! I need to be awake, I need…I need—!"

"No one is going to put you to sleep," L assured him, inching even closer. He longed to close the remaining distance between them and pull the teen into an embrace, but he wasn't sure if he would be received warmly. "Light, please calm down. You're going to hyperventilate." His voice was calm, but the worry he felt was immense. Light didn't look good. His skin was flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat, and his eyes were wide and frantic. "I promise you," he whispered, "we'll get them back." Even if it wasn't a promise he could really make, he had to do something, _anything,_ to bring Light back.

"L, I really must suggest—"

"We will _not_ sedate him!" L hissed. He took another step closer to the panicking teen. "Light, calm down! Like I said, we'll get them back! You'll see them again. You'll see Sayu again!"

Mentioning her name had been a mistake. Light's breathing grew dangerously shallow. The rhythm was off. "Sayu…" he choked, and from the tone of that one word L could tell that his lover's mind was in a terribly dark place.

L had been down this road before; he knew what Light must have been thinking.

_This is my fault. I'm the one that got my family kidnapped. If I hadn't gotten involved with L, they'd still be here. And Sayu…if she dies, I won't be able to live with myself. I'm so useless! I can't do anything to help my family now, and I have no idea what those kidnappers are doing to them! What if they're already dead?_

" _Light!"_ L snapped harshly, closing the final few feet and taking him by the shoulders. He shook the teen harshly, insisting, "You need to snap out of it! Your family will be fine!"

Light didn't seem to hear him. Was he having a panic attack? That was what it looked like—and it scared L out of his wits. His shallow breathing, his elevated heart rate, his shaking form…

"It's okay," L soothed, rubbing his hands up and down his lover's upper arms. "Please, come back to me."

The teen squeezed his eyes closed. "Hurts…" he rasped, one hand clutching at his chest.

A pang of alarm shot through him. "Light?"

A soft whimper was his only response. The teen's arms were suddenly wrapping around his own chest, his features twisting in agony. "L…it hurts…"

"What is it? What hurts?"

Light shook his head back and forth furiously. His arms tightened around his middle. "My…my c-chest…"

L's blood pounded in his ears as the implications of that statement filled his heart. Behind him, he heard Watari step forward in alarm.

The detective was helpless to do anything but watch as Light trembled. He slowly slid down the wardrobe, striking the ground harshly. L immediately dropped down to keel beside him, and his hands shot out, hovering over his lover's form uncertainly.

After that, it was fast.

First, Light paused in his agonized panting to stare down at his torso in amazement. Then his eyes widened, and he choked out again, "L, my _chest_ …"

That was when L realized what was happening. He shot to his feet in a heartbeat, whirling around to face Watari. "Watari!" he ordered, heart pounding furiously in his chest. "Go outside and bring a car around to the front door, _now!"_ He leaned down, scooping Light up into his arms. "We don't have much time!"

Watari didn't question the order. Instead, he turned and left the room, presumably to fetch one of the cars from the nearby garage. It shouldn't take more than a minute or two. Meanwhile, L carried Light downstairs and onto the porch, careful not to jostle him too greatly. By this point, Light was completely unconscious. It wasn't a good sign.

It was at that moment, thankfully, that Watari appeared with a car. L wasted no time in placing Light in the backseat and crawling in after him. "Go, Watari!" he ordered. "Our infirmary is still equipped to deal with this, correct?"

Watari answered, "We have several qualified doctors on campus that will be more than capable of dealing with the situation. We've caught it early, so as long as nothing more goes wrong, Light should be fine."

"You have no way of knowing that," L rasped, head lowered. "I refuse to be given false hope. If this was…" He trailed off, realizing that he couldn't finish his statement in front of Watari. _This doesn't make any sense,_ he thought mournfully. _Why did this happen now? Why did this happen to Light?_

"We've arrived," Watari reported, bringing the car to a halt. "Carry Light in. I'll go on ahead and inform the doctors of the situation at hand."

L immediately exited the car, carrying Light along with him. All gentleness was gone as he darted into the infirmary, knowing how vital it was that he get Light inside quickly.

_Just hang on, Light. I'm not going to let you die._

†††

The first thing Light felt was a dull, aching pain in his chest. It wasn't particularly agonizing, or even strong—but it was _persistent,_ and that made it nearly unbearable. It never seemed to stop. It just kept throbbing, spreading through his chest like poison and settling into the deepest recesses of his body. God…why did he feel so terrible? He couldn't remember a thing.

That was when he heard it.

"…ight. Light. Light!"

He frowned, awareness of his physical body slowly beginning to return to him. Everything felt fuzzy and diluted. Just where was he? He could feel something soft surrounding him, and his muddled mind managed to put together the fragmented image of a bed. That's where he was…lying in a bed. But it didn't feel like the bed he normally slept in. The covers were soft, yes, but not nearly as soft as the sheets he normally used. Not nearly as soft as the sheets on L's bed.

He froze. _L!_ That's who was calling him!

In an instant, his mind whirred back to life. His memories were still fuzzy, but he vaguely recalled a terrible, sharp pain in his chest before he sank into darkness. He'd been in the midst of a conversation with L when he collapsed. Something had happened, right? L had told him something, something important…

"Light, please…I know you've regained consciousness, so can you open your eyes for me?"

That was L again. Desperately, he struggled to open his eyes. He had to see him, had to make sure he was all right. It was that thought that gave him the strength to slowly, painfully pry his eyes open.

"You're awake!"

Light groaned, wincing as light flooded his eyes. He had to blink a few times before the world faded from blinding white to more gentle hues, and shapes began to form around him once again. As his vision returned, the first thing he saw was the outline of someone who had to be L. "L?" he rasped.

The edges of the shape began to sharpen, and soon a blurry image of L was coming into focus. "Light…" a gentle voice whispered. "Thank goodness you're awake."

The teen tried to push himself up, but was immediately stopped by a flaring pain in his chest. It was nowhere near the piercing agony he'd felt before collapsing. Instead, it was more of a radiating ache, beginning at the center of his chest and branching outwards.

"Easy," L soothed, and the next moment there were hands on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. "You…you had a bit of an incident, I'm afraid. You shouldn't be moving yet."

"Incident?" Light echoed in a low rasp.

"Yes." L, finally completely in focus, reached over and retrieved a cup of water from the table beside the bed. "Here, drink this."

Light took the cup with trembling fingers, struggling to bring it to his lips. Luckily, L was there to help. The detective quietly reached over and grasped the cup, helping the teen drink. As the cup was lowered and taken away, Light took the opportunity to look around the room. He didn't recognize it. It looked like an infirmary, if he had to guess. There were dozens of cots around him, and medical equipment was set out on the counters. It looked like someone had been working with the equipment recently, and in quite a rushed way. Just what had happened here?

"How much do you remember?" L asked gently.

Light frowned at the question, and at the soft tone L was using. "I don't remember much," he admitted. "Just…a pain in my chest, and then darkness. L, what happened to me?"

The detective's features twisted painfully. "You shouldn't know. If you're faced with any more trauma in the next few weeks, it could very well trigger a relapse."

"A relapse?" he whispered. Then he gasped, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fitting into place. Pain in his chest…a fuzzy feeling in his head…a deep, oppressive darkness. "No…" he whispered. "I didn't have a…?"

L looked away sharply, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and low. "Not a heart attack, no. Though…that's what we all thought at first."

Light frowned weakly. "Then what…?"

The detective's jaw clenched visibly. "They don't know. At first it looked like a heart attack. Then, when it became clear that that wasn't the case, the doctors thought it had to be a case of unstable angina—but then they realized that that couldn't be it either, because you would have shown earlier symptoms, and that condition is more common when faced with _physical_ stress rather than emotional."

It didn't feel real. Surely it wasn't real. How could they just _not know_ what was wrong with him? "Do they at least have a guess?" he asked, practically begging.

L's head dipped slightly. "The doctors aren't certain, but they have a theory. Whether it's realistic or not is up for debate, but…they believe that the collapse and the consequent pain was caused by a mixture of prolonged stress, lack of sleep, and the panic attack that appeared to be triggered by the information you learned before the fit. They think that this all happened because you've been under so much pressure lately, denying yourself sleep and working late into the night just to assist me. Those conditions alone created a dangerous situation, seeing as sustained stress can cause severe chest pain in the event that a trigger is present. And when you learned about your family…well, it appears that we found that trigger."

"My family," Light whispered in realization. He waited, then, for the panic to set in once again. He waited for that oppressive darkness to press in around his heart and mind, waited to slip back into darkness. But to his surprise, all he felt was a sense of emptiness. It was as if he'd used all his emotion earlier on, and now he was left with nothing but apathy for the situation. It alarmed him. Why couldn't he feel anything?

"You don't have to worry," L assured him. "We know who the kidnappers are, though not their location, and while you were out, they sent us a message."

"How long was I out?" Light asked suddenly.

"Two days."

"Two days…"

L gave a grave nod. "In that time, we received a video message from the kidnappers. They informed us that they're holding both your family and Takada hostage until I do what they want." He leaned in closer, expression serious. "More accurately, they want me to confess."

"Confess? Confess what?"

A sad smile greeted him in response. "That I'm Kira."

The world slowed. "They know?"

"Evidently so. I'm not sure how they figured it out, but it looks like they've got the better of us. They're using your family as leverage, claiming that they'll kill them if I don't confess and hand myself over."

"Oh, I…" Light trailed off, caught between his feelings for L and his love for his family. "I see." He hesitated, eyes raking over the covers. "What…what are you going to do?"

L wouldn't meet his gaze.

"You're going to do something, right?"

Silence.

"L, please tell me you're going to do something!"

The detective looked away determinedly. "I can't give myself up, Light. Too much is at stake for me to throw my life away like that."

A mixture of relief and anger flooded through him. "Then do something else! _Anything_ else! You can't let anyone be killed!"

"I've already arranged a flight to Japan," L said quietly. "I put it off so that I could make sure you were okay, but now that I know you're not going to die, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

" _You'll_ be leaving? And just what the hell will I be doing?"

L's gaze was calm and unyielding. "I'm sorry, Light."

"You're taking me with you!"

"I'm not."

"L, you have to! They're my family!"

"And you're my lover!" L snapped, anger flaring to life deep within those dark orbs. "I won't let anything happen to you!"

"That doesn't matter now, you dolt! They're my family, and I'm going to rescue them no matter what it takes! I don't care if I have to die to save them!"

L's eyes flashed. "That kind of attitude is why you're staying here!"

"And what if something goes wrong, huh? What if you die too? What would I do then?"

"I won't die!"

Light bared his teeth furiously, snarling, "You're unbelievable. You won't let me go with you because you don't want me to die, but you're willing to just charge headlong into danger without a second thought? How do you expect me to agree to that?"

L's mouth hung open, clearly ready to start yelling. But then he froze and made a visible effort to get his anger under control. "Light," he rasped, "please understand that you're not well."

"Not well? What is that supposed to mean?"

Another pained flicker crossed L's features. "You collapsed, remember? You could have died. I was _afraid_ that you would die. Afraid that it was a heart attack, caused by the person that has your notebook. The fact that you _didn't_ die is the only thing keeping me from going to Japan and slaughtering the people that did this to you."

"The people that did this to me? L, this was entirely natural! It wasn't a heart attack, and Kira has nothing to do with this! He didn't hurt me."

"I know," the detective seethed. "And that's why I'm going to make sure that bastard never gets the _chance_ to hurt you, by going to Japan and ending this once and for all."

The teen blanched. "You…you think that the person who stole my notebook is involved with this? That he's in Japan?"

"There's no doubt in my mind that he is the one behind this."

Light's gaze softened as he saw the determination in L's gaze. "You could still take me with you. Even if I don't become involved in the actual fighting, I could stay with you and help you. Let me do that much, at least."

L shook his head firmly. "You're not well enough. I refuse to risk a relapse."

He wasn't going to convince him. He couldn't. Once L had decided, there was no way to sway him. Light hated it. "It's funny," he sighed. "This happened in the story, you know. My father was temporarily taken down because of a heart attack, just as I've been removed from the action by whatever's just happened to me."

L didn't seem to agree that it was funny. "It seems that we haven't entirely broken free from that infernal story. There are still parallels being drawn, even after we've changed so much. I can't help but wonder…"

Light knew what he was thinking. _I can't help but wonder if we're going to end up dead, even after all of this._ "We won't," he whispered. Then he forced a smile, saying, "We're too stubborn to die. I mean, look at me. I survived whatever the hell that was, didn't I? I'm not going to let anything take me down."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." The detective narrowed his eyes. "And about that—why didn't you tell me you were under so much pressure? No eighteen-year-old boy should ever collapse due to stress!"

"I didn't realize it was so bad," Light admitted. "I just wanted to help you."

The detective's gaze softened considerably, and he reached out a hand, placing it on Light's thigh. "You must tell me if it ever becomes that bad again."

Light agreed with a silent nod.

"Now…" L pushed himself back slightly. "I need to pack my things in preparation to leave. I promise I'll be back to visit you before I take off. Is that okay?"

It was absolutely not okay, but Light couldn't exactly tell him that. "Y-yeah, just…just be sure you come back."

"Light…" L moved closer, leaning down. The detective pressed his lips to Light's once, briefly, before pulling away. "I'll always come back for you. I promise."

Light tried to be reassured by the statement, but he found himself unable to shake the thought of L dying. Still, though… "You'd better keep that promise."

L nodded solemnly. Then he turned, heading for the door.

"L?" Light called before he could leave.

The detective turned, hand on the doorframe. He said nothing.

"I…" He trailed off, uncertain. But then he steeled himself, reminding himself that if he didn't say it now, he might not get to again. "I l-love you." _Right?_

Just like that, a gentle smile blossomed along L's features. "Yeah," he said softly. "I love you too, Light. See you later, okay?"

Light couldn't bring himself to respond as L left the room. In fact, it wasn't for many minutes later that he brought himself to whisper a single phrase, aimed after the dark-haired man that was no doubt far out of earshot.

_Goodbye, L._

†††

L snarled silently as his plane carried him to Japan, where the kidnappers were waiting. How _dare_ these bastards put Light through so much pain? He never would have had accident if his family hadn't been taken from him!

_They'll pay,_ L thought viciously. _I'll kill them all for this. No matter who they are, no matter what they've done, they'll all die. I'll do it with my bare hands if I have to. All for Light…_

A growl sounded low in his throat as he remembered Light's precious connections in Japan. His friends, his family…if they didn't exist, this would never have happened. They, too, were at fault. They would _pay!_

The more rational side of his mind—what little of it remained—sparked to life in feeble protest. _No, no…this isn't their fault. Remember, Light cares about them. He'll be in pain if they die. I'm not supposed to cause him pain._

The darker part of his mind was ready with a response. _It would be easier if they were dead. It would hurt for a while, but he'd get over it. And once he did, no one would ever be able to cause him pain again. I would be able to protect him from anyone that wanted to hurt him._

L banished the thoughts violently, but he knew that they weren't gone. They were simply lurking in the back of his mind, waiting to take over.

He wasn't sure he could keep them from doing just that.

But that didn't matter now. He just had to get to Japan and deal with the situation quickly and efficiently.

Sighing deeply, he recalled the last conversation he'd had with Light before he left for Japan. It still made his skin crawl.

It had all started when L came back to the infirmary to see Light one last time. He'd decided to discuss the video message with the teen, just so he had all of the information.

"It was quite strange," L had murmured as Light stared up at him curiously. "Normally in situations like this the kidnappers don't show their faces. That increases their chances of being caught. But these criminals had no problem walking on screen with their faces completely exposed. I attempted to find their identities, but they don't seem to be in any police database. As far as I can tell, they're members of that gang, but they're completely off the grid."

"We could take them out with the Death Note," Light suggested. "We just need their names."

"We need shinigami eyes," L murmured.

"Misa," Light said, snapping his fingers triumphantly. "We need Misa. Doesn't she have the eyes? No, wait…did she? It's been so long, and so many things have happened…I almost can't seem to remember."

"She doesn't have the eyes," was the detective's response. "Not that I could tell, at least." Of course, he'd forgotten that Light didn't know Misa was dead. He'd been the one that killed her, however indirect it may have been. He'd ordered his special forces to move in and kill her. As of now, her body rested in a shallow grave in a field behind a warehouse in Japan. "Don't worry, Light—if there's a way to save your family, I'll find it."

Light's thoughts in that moment were obvious. _You say you'll do anything, but you won't give yourself up._

L didn't have a response. And so instead, he said, "I just want you to promise me something."

"Hmm."

"Light…I don't know if your shinigami is around here or not, or if he would hear you if you called for him, but I want you to promise me that you won't make the deal for the eyes so you can kill the kidnappers."

Light raised a brow. "That's a very specific concern you have there, L."

"I know you care about your family. And so if you saw the opportunity to save them at the cost of a few years of your life…"

Light smiled sadly. "I understand. And if that's what you're really worried about, then…I'll promise you that I won't make the deal for the eyes."

Some of the tenseness in L's chest eased. "Thank you."

After that, it had been swift. The two lovers said a slow goodbye, and then L was off. He'd boarded the plane, and he was currently flying to Japan. Soon he would arrive, and then there would be no mercy.

L wouldn't wait around. He would go to the NPA, gather the task force and an additional squad of his own personal police officers, and attack the kidnappers head on. He would be back at Light's side in a matter of days.

And if it came down to it…if there was no other way to make sure that Light was never forced to feel such pain again…

He had finally made his decision.

L would kill anyone and everyone that had ever hurt Light, that had the _potential_ to hurt Light.

And that included his family. 


	34. The Seven of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

Thanks to Beyond's hard work, everything was set up the way it should be. Soichiro, Sachiko, Sayu, and Takada had all been taken into custody, and were all being held securely at the headquarters of the gang he was working with. He'd already orchestrated the message and sent it to L. Now, all he had to do was wait.

He'd been very particular about the message. He'd forced the criminals to show their faces, despite their protests, simply to taut L. He knew that these particular criminals were completely removed from any police database—he'd made sure of that—and so to show their faces to L was the worst taunt he could think of. Hell, maybe he could convince the detective to make a deal for the eyes. Not that he thought that was likely. L was far too focused on self-preservation to do such a selfless thing as that.

"I wonder, L…" he murmured, staring up at the ceiling of the tiny room he was staying in at a nearby hotel. "Are you on your way? I thought you would have shown up here a day ago, but something seems to be keeping you." A part of him considered calling Light just to make sure nothing had happened, but he decided against it. He was sure that the teen was fine.

Well…almost sure.

In any case, calling him now would be reckless. Light would wonder at the timing of the call, and could quite possibly make the connection between Beyond and the abduction of his family. He couldn't have that, now, could he? He was trying to convince Light to trust him, after all.

His phone buzzed lightly, drawing his attention. Ever since he'd left England, Near had been asking him for updates almost constantly. It was getting old, honestly. He sighed, raising the phone to check the latest message. Sure enough, it was from Near—but this time, it wasn't a message asking about his status. Rather, it was the piece of news he'd been waiting for.

_L left for Japan a few hours ago. He should be there soon. Be on your guard._

So, L was finally coming to Japan. He swiftly messaged back, _It's about time. What kept him?_

A few minutes passed before he received a response. _I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that he left a few hours ago without Light._

Beyond raised a brow. So, L had left Light behind. It was understandable, but he was surprised that Light had agreed to it. _Got it,_ he sent back. _Thanks for the information. Tell me if you learn anything further._

_Will do._

Beyond moved to put his phone away, but then he paused. Begrudgingly, he sent one last message to Near. _Be sure to keep an eye on Light for me, okay? Don't let anything happen to him._

_Don't worry. I'll take care of it._

The deed done, Beyond slipped his phone back into his pocket. This was a rather positive turn of events. If L and Light weren't together, then L couldn't harm the teen. At least, not physically. If L's actions led to the death of Light's family, that would be another story. And unfortunately, Beyond knew there was a very high chance of something bad happening to the people Light cared about. After all, that was his plan. L would be unable to save his lover's family from harm, and said lover would turn his back on him as a result.

It would hurt Light terribly. But sometimes a little pain was necessary, Beyond knew, to reach a future in which he would never be hurt again.

†††

L arrived in Japan early the next morning, and the first thing he did was gather the task force. They hadn't changed a bit, as was to be expected. They were naturally disappointed that Light wasn't with him, especially seeing as Soichiro was one of the victims. But however disappointed they may have been that Light wasn't there, he knew that it was better for the teen to stay out of this particular scuffle.

Once he'd gathered the task force and moved back into his old headquarters, the next step was to discover the location of the gang's headquarters. It proved slightly tricky, but in the end it was entirely possible. The task force had already gathered all the pertinent information, and all it took was several hours of work to piece all that information together to form a plausible location. Apparently the gang hadn't been very careful in abducting Soichiro. Their car had been caught on multiple traffic cams until it disappeared into a tunnel and failed to exit through the other side. L had been puzzled at first, but there was a simple solution. As it turned out, there was an additional maintenance tunnel running off of the tunnel's insides. It was nowhere near large enough to fit a car, but that wasn't a problem when the shoulder of the road was plenty large enough to park a car, at least long enough to unload Light's family and Takada from the back of the car and carry them into the maintenance tunnel. After that, the kidnappers had left one man in the car to turn it around and drive back out the entrance of the tunnel. Sure enough, the traffic cams showed the same car driving the opposite way out of the tunnel once the sun went down. They lost track of the car after that, but it was obvious what had happened.

They now knew the location of Light's family, as well as Takada and anyone else who may have become involved in the situation. All that was left was to barge in and take out the kidnappers. Which, of course, was easier said than done.

L had already called in his own team of officers, who were loyal to him and him alone. The task force, of course, would have to be brought along as well. It was _their_ chief of police that they were trying to rescue, after all. With both the task force and his own personal police force ready to move in, all that was left was to devise a plan of attack. The kidnappers would no doubt be watching their hostages closely. It wouldn't be easy to get in and rescue them without putting their lives in danger.

…Which just brought L back to the topic of whether or not Light's family and friends _should_ be rescued. He'd gone back and forth with himself endlessly on the topic, convincing himself that he was being foolish one minute and brilliant the next. Needless to say, he was deeply conflicted. He loved Light. He didn't want the teen to suffer the loss of his family and friends. But if he rescued Light's family now, what was to stop the next person from doing the same thing? Any of his numerous enemies could simply swoop in and kidnap everyone Light cared about. Sooner or later, they would be put in a situation in which there was no other option but for L to either turn himself over or let them die. And of course, there was no way he could turn himself over. Doing so would be a terrible mistake. So, then…what was better? Was it better for Light to lose his family all at once in this incident, or to let him stress over their safety for however many years it would take for the next enemy to come along and slaughter them all?

L couldn't hide a wince at the thought of Light being forced to worry over his family for years on end. The teen was already stressed, pushed to his limit, even if he wasn't aware of it. It was the reason that he'd been stricken down so violently the previous day, brought to the ground in a matter of moments. If he continued to worry, he'd have a relapse. He could die. No, he _would_ die if it went on in such a manner. He'd never find rest if he had to stress constantly.

And what were the positives of leaving Light's family alive? The teen would have their company and love, yes, but it would be overshadowed by the fear of losing them. When L tried to dream up more positives, he found nothing. That was it.

When it was put like that…

The detective swallowed hard, shoving such unsavory thoughts from his mind. He didn't have to decide now. Right now, all he had to do was come up with a plan of attack. Unfortunately, that plan would revolve around whether or not he chose to rescue Light's family. If he didn't want to save them, if he wanted to release Light from his familial bonds, then it would be easy. He'd charge in full force and slaughter everyone inside. But if he wanted to save them, then his plan would require much more precision.

A dilemma, to be sure—and L didn't have long to come to a decision.

†††

As the sun set, Beyond found himself standing in one of the cells where the prisoners were being kept. He was supposed to be guarding them, since Near didn't trust the members of the gang to do the job properly. But now his curiosity had driven him to enter one of the cells. He had no doubt that if all went to plan, everyone contained in these cells would be dead soon. But before that happened, he wanted to have just one conversation with the person Light seemed to love so much. He had to know…

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to kill me?"

Beyond blinked down at the young girl in the cell, who had curled herself up into a ball in the far corner. There was a cot provided for her, but she seemed uninterested. Frowning, he took a step forward and asked, "What makes you think I'm going to kill you?"

The girl refused to look at him. "You're after my father, aren't you? I'm sure that you're doing this to get at the chief of police. Why else would you kidnap me?"

Ah, so she thought he was after her father. A good guess, but entirely incorrect. "I am not after your father," Beyond said, keeping his voice apathetic. "In fact, I am not after a person. Rather, I am after an outcome. And for the purpose of that outcome, I will not be the one that kills you, if you do indeed cease to live sometime within the next few days."

Sayu glared up at him then, eyes piercing and fierce. "Why do you have me if you're not after dad?"

Beyond assured her, "It's not just you that we have here. In fact, your entire family is here, sans Light. Kiyomi Takada is being held as well."

The girl raised a brow. "Light is the only one not here? And you've taken Takada as well…" She looked thoughtful. It appeared as if she was well on her way to figuring it out. "So," she began again, steering herself away from the dangerous topic. "Why are you here if you're not going to kill me?"

Hmm…why _was_ he there? "I suppose I was curious," he decided. "I wanted to know what the sister of the great Light Yagami was like."

"So you know Light." Sayu brought a hand to her hair, twirling a lock between two fingers thoughtfully in a way that was eerily similar to Near. "And since he's the only one not here, I'd be willing to wager that this is all a ploy to get at him."

_I thought this girl was supposed to be dim,_ Beyond thought, surprised _._ "You're right, in a manner of speaking. I'm a friend of Light's."

"Yeah, right. He doesn't have friends, not really. The only person he seems close to is Rue, and it's obvious that no matter how much you look like him, you're _not_ the same person."

"You don't think of Takada as his friend?"

She laughed. "You're crazy if you think she's really his friend. It's true that he tolerates her, but I doubt he'd be driven to do anything drastic because of her kidnapping."

To be honest, Beyond had already known that. The only reason he'd suggested Takada as a target was because she was just another connection that L no doubt thought needed to be eliminated. Losing her wouldn't be incredibly painful for Light, but it would be another nudge in the right direction. "Then I suppose you think kidnapping her wasn't a productive use of my time."

"No, I would say not." She grinned as if she'd bested him. "So then, you're trying to lure him here using his family as bait?"

"No, not exactly."

"You're trying to hurt him, then, by killing those closest to him? And you're keeping me alive to what, give him a glimmer of hope before tearing it away from him?"

Her mind was so dark. It was funny, for someone who was usually so bubbly. "You're on the right track, I'll admit. If you want the short version, I'd say that I'm keeping you and your family here to help me get Light on my side."

She blinked, surprised. "You're kidding. How is that going to work?"

"Explaining would take hours that we don't have. And besides, I'm not even sure if it's going to work."

Sayu shook her head. "You're a strange one, you know that?"

"I'm aware, yes."

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "So, how do you know my brother?"

"Like I said, we're friends. We met a little before he left for England."

"And does _he_ know that he's your friend?"

He laughed fondly, thoughts fixating on Light's fiery temper and stubbornness. "I hope so. But knowing him, you can never be sure."

"He's never been one for wearing his emotions on his sleeve, that's for sure." Sayu's smile grew slightly, eyes unfocused as she no doubt recalled some distant memory. Then she snapped out of it, leaning forward. "So tell me, why are you doing this?"

"I already told you—"

"No. Tell me why you're _really_ doing this. Just what it is that you want out of my brother? What is it about him that's making you do this?"

"What do I want out of him?" he echoed. "Well…" He trailed off, thinking of the danger L posed to his health. "That's something that would take a long time to explain. But to put things simply, he's become involved with someone very dangerous. This is my attempt to get him away from that person."

"Dangerous? Is he okay?"

"He's fine; you don't need to worry about him." _He's got_ me _for that._ "It's just that this person…he's very crafty. He's made Light think that he's the good guy, when he's really just setting up to destroy him. Light can't see it yet, though…and that's why I'm doing this. I'll make him understand that his friend is manipulating him."

Sayu suddenly looked weary. "Ryuzaki Rue."

He blinked. "What?"

"Ryuzaki Rue. That's who you're talking about, isn't it? Light's partner."

And of course, it was. Sayu was much smarter than she appeared. "You're correct."

"Hmph. That's funny." She uncurled herself from her tiny huddle on the ground and leaned against the wall instead, legs stretched out in front of her. "Hey…just what has my big brother gotten himself into?"

"He…" Beyond hesitated, surprised when a lump formed in his throat. It wasn't like him to _feel_ so much. Was he going soft? "He's gotten himself into something terrible. That's all I can say."

"Is he going to live?"

The question was so blunt, so out of place, that Beyond almost thought he'd misunderstood. "What?"

"He's in danger. Are you going to let him die?"

"No, I…" Again, he found himself at a loss for words. "I'm doing this to keep him from dying. As long as this goes well, I can protect him."

The girl gave a tired nod, though a tiny flicker of amusement was flaring up within her eyes. "At least he'll be safe."

Beyond frowned. "You're not afraid? You're just happy that he'll be safe?"

"Hey, I never said I wasn't afraid." That tired smile on her face dropped slightly. "If I'm right, a part of your plan involves something very bad happening to me. That doesn't exactly make me happy, you know? But still…at least my brother won't die."

She was so selfless. She loved Light so much. _I don't want to hurt her,_ he realized.

"You look guilty," Sayu joked weakly. "I don't suppose it's enough for you to let me go?"

Beyond shook his head as if in a dream. "I'm afraid not."

She shrugged, though it was obvious she was fighting against a crushing weight. "Worth a shot."

Beyond stepped back towards the door. He couldn't continue this conversation any longer, not if he wanted to keep himself from experiencing that most dreaded emotion— _guilt._ "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you for your cooperation."

She watched him as he retreated towards the door. "Hey!" she called after him. "I never caught your name."

"You don't need to know my name."

"Fine," she sighed. "If you won't give me your name, then you'll just have to do something else for me. If your plan goes well…tell my brother I love him, okay?"

He couldn't respond for a moment. But then he sealed his emotionless shell tight, slipping smoothly back into the apathetic character he'd spent his whole life developing after A's death. "Yeah. No problem."

He felt Sayu's eyes piercing through him as he walked back out the door, closing it behind him heavily. There was a strange weight in his chest, and he was swift to push it down. He couldn't afford to go soft, not when he was so close to his goal. If this went well, L would end up killing Light's family and the only person he'd been even remotely connected to in school. After that, he could take advantage of the situation and take Light under his wing.

It wouldn't be long now.

†††

Back in England, Light thought he was going insane.

He'd done nothing but lie in bed and recover for a day, and he was convinced he was about to lose it. All he could do was worry about his family, worry about L, and it was killing him. He knew that he had to control his level of stress, but it wasn't easy when he knew that both his lover and his family could be in terrible danger. Waiting for L to call him as he'd promised was terrifying. What if something had happened to him? He almost couldn't breathe when he thought about it.

Luckily, though, L called him before he hyperventilated.

"L!" he cried, snapping up the phone the instant it let out the first tiny noise. It nighttime in Japan; L was up incredibly late to speak with him. "L, are you okay? What's happening?"

A chuckle sounded through the receiver. _"Calm down, Light, everything is fine. I worked with the task force today, and we've already discovered where your family and Takada are being held."_

Relief flooded him. "Oh, thank goodness. When will you move in to rescue them?"

There was a slight pause. _"I'm planning on attacking tomorrow under the cover of darkness."_

"You have a plan? What is it?"

Another pause. _"To be perfectly honest, I haven't decided just yet. All I know is that I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're not hurt."_

"Don't tell me you're going in without a plan! You'll choose one by the time you attack, won't you?"

L laughed. _"Of course I will. You don't have to worry about me, I promise."_ Then there was a tiny sigh. _"I just wish that we could use the shinigami eyes to end this quickly."_

"Yes, it's too bad we don't have access to them," Light lamented. "That would make this so much easier. But I suppose there's nothing we can do about that, since we've promised each other that we won't take on the eyes." Even now, he wasn't sure it had been the right choice. If he could help his family live at the cost of half of his lifespan, wasn't it worth it? L didn't seem to think so.

_"You're right, there's nothing we can do about it. We'll just have to wait and see how things pan out. You'll agree to that, yes?"_

"Of course, L. I already promised you that I wouldn't take the eyes, and I meant it." _I just hope I don't have to hold true to that promise at the cost of the lives of my family and friends._ "How are things in Japan?"

_"Well, under the circumstances, they aren't bad. The task force is as energetic as ever. They're working hard to rescue your father, that's for sure. They've actually been a bit useful."_

"Useful?" Light chuckled. "How unusual."

_"Yes, it's quite strange. But in any case, I'm glad they're helping. I wouldn't have been able to locate your family as quickly without their help. I'll be taking them in tomorrow night to help rescue them."_

"So they'll be in danger too…"

_"Yes, unfortunately."_

"I see. L, you said that you'd found their location, correct? The location of my family, I mean. If you don't mind me asking, where are they?"

_"Yes, I've found them,"_ L confirmed. _"There's a tunnel near the Eighth Street Warehouse, which isn't too incredibly far from your old home. Inside that tunnel, there's another tunnel that branches off. If you follow it, it spits you out into an abandoned apartment complex that has three floors hidden underground. That's where your family is being kept—the lowest floor of the apartment complex."_

"Well, at least we know their location, even if it isn't very glamorous." Light was suddenly stricken with an unnerving thought. "L…have you noticed? It seems like everyone I care about is involved in this. My family, Takada, the task force… _you."_

A tense pause ensued, until L said, " _It does seem that way, yes."_

"If something goes wrong…I could lose everything." The gravity of that statement struck him full force, and his breath shortened momentarily.

_"You can't think like that. Remember, you're supposed to be avoiding stress. If you start worrying over this situation, you could harm yourself further. Please try to remain calm."_

Light forced his breath to slow. "Yes, of course…I'm sorry. I'm concerned, that's all. There's so much at stake. What will I do if—?"

_"No thinking about that!"_ L snapped. _"Just relax and wait for me to return. Like I said, I'll do whatever I can to help you. I promise. You just need to trust me. You can do that, can't you?"_

L's soothing words washed over him, easing his nerves slightly. "Yes," he whispered. "I trust you completely, L. I trust that you would never do anything to hurt me."

_"Good…"_ L trailed off, and there was a brief pause. Then, _"I'm afraid I'm receiving a message from the task force. I believe they wish to discuss our plan."_

"But we haven't even been talking for five minutes," Light protested softly.

_"I know, but you must understand that tomorrow is very important. We need to make sure our plan is airtight."_

"Well…" He hesitated. He didn't want to say goodbye, not when he knew that L's life would soon be at risk. He just wanted to keep talking, keep L on the other end of the line for as long as possible. Despite his endless faith in his lover, he was still worried. He was worried that when he let L go, he would go off to rescue his family and never come back. He didn't know what he'd do if that happened, if L… _died_. He'd finally found his place in the world, helping L to make everything better. He couldn't go back to his old life now, couldn't go back to Japan and pretend that nothing had ever happened. It would drive him insane.

_"Light? You're quiet."_

"I'm sorry," Light said quickly, realizing that he'd become lost in thought. "I'm just…I'm worried."

_"Light. All you have to do is trust me."_

Yes. Trust L. Trust him to bring his family home. "Okay," he rasped. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

_"You have my word."_

There was another pause. Light knew he had to go, but he didn't want to say goodbye.

_"Goodbye, Light,"_ L murmured, voicing Light's deepest fear.

"Yeah…see you later, L."

After that, there was nothing left. The line went dead, and Light was left holding a phone that, just moments ago, was allowing him to hear the voice of his lover. His chest throbbed dully as he laid there, lost in his thoughts. In less than a day, his lover and his family would have their lives put at risk. He wouldn't be there to help them. Unless…

Light's eyes found his laptop, which Watari had brought him earlier in the day. He reached over and pulled it into his lap with a wince. He was still slightly sore from the events of the previous day. But he didn't let that stop him from opening the lid and beginning to hunt for his goal. Where was it that L had said his family was being kept? In an abandoned apartment complex with the entrance to a maintenance tunnel directly outside? He was sure he could find it if he just—

Ah! There it was!

Long ago he'd learned how to sneak his way into the traffic cams and security cameras lining the streets and buildings around his home. He'd never attempted to access the cameras around the area where the apartment complex was located, but he was sure that he could accomplish it if he just tried hard enough.

It took a bit of searching, but he eventually managed to locate a good view of the apartment complex from the traffic cameras in the surrounding area. He assumed that the kidnappers had installed security cameras in the building. And if they had, he should be able to access them and get a good view of what was going on inside the building, assuming that they were putting out a signal. If he could just tap into that signal, gain access to the cameras, then he could watch and make sure that nothing bad happened when L attacked. With his plan fully formed, he began searching for a way to access the cameras.

And searching…

And searching…

And searching…

And…

He couldn't find anything. Damn it, why couldn't he find anything? No matter what he tried, he couldn't find a way to access the cameras in the apartment complex. He knew now that they were there, but he couldn't figure out how to get in. He simply couldn't do it. He needed help. But who did he know that could help him with something like this? He barely knew anyone at the orphanage.

Wait…hadn't L told him that one of his successors was good with computers? Now, which one was it? It wasn't Near, that was for sure, so it had to be one of the other two. There was Mello, and…what was his name?

He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Matt!" he said out loud. "Matt is the one who's good with computers! I bet he could help me access those cameras."

So, then, he just had to speak with him. And since he couldn't get out of bed, he only had one option.

"Watari!" he called, and the elderly man entered the room a few moments later. L had asked Watari to watch over him for as long as he was in the infirmary, so he was never far away. "Watari, can you please fetch Matt for me? I need to speak with him."

"Matt?" Watari questioned. "Why on earth would you need to speak with him?"

"Please just fetch him for me," Light requested, knowing that Watari wouldn't approve of the reason he wanted to speak with him. "It's nothing bad, I assure you."

"Need I remind you that you're supposed to be resting?" the older man asked patiently. "I can't allow you to do anything that might bring you stress."

For a moment, Light feared that he wouldn't win. "This won't cause me stress. In fact, speaking with Matt about the subject at hand will make me feel better. I'll be able to relax."

Watari fixed him with a searching gaze. Then, hesitantly, he said, "Very well. I'll send Matt to you at once, so long as you're sure it won't aggravate your condition."

"It won't, I assure you."

The inventor gave a polite nod, then turned and exited the infirmary. After that, it didn't take long for Matt to come banging down his door. The younger teen was a welcome sight, his bright red striped vest and reddish brown hair bringing a splash of color to the pristine infirmary. As always, when Matt entered, he was holding a handheld gaming system to his face. A lit cigarette was pressed between his lips, and he paused in his game only to remove it and exhale a cloud of smoke.

"Matt!" Light greeted, struggling to sit up. "Thank you for coming to see me."

The teen shrugged, eyes not leaving his game. As always, he wasn't one for conversation.

"I was hoping you could lend me a hand," Light continued. "I'm sure you know that L took off for Japan without me after my little incident."

That got his attention. He looked up, his expression one of slight concern. "Incident?" he repeated shortly, and his voice was surprisingly abrasive.

Light blinked. Hadn't L told his successors? No, on second thought, why would he? It was clear that he didn't like them very much. "I collapsed due to stress," Light said bluntly, observing Matt's expression go from vaguely interested to shocked in a heartbeat. "Apparently it was quite serious."

"Collapsed?" Matt echoed. "Seriously? You were under _that_ much pressure?

"Yes, it seems that I've been under a quite bit of stress." Light smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. "But that's not why I asked to see you. You see, L is about to carry out a major operation in Japan involving the rescuing of my family. You heard about my family, right?"

"Yes, of course. L did tell us that, at least, just so we'd know where he was running off to."

"Well, that operation is taking place tomorrow night. I can't be by his side, so I can't help him. But I did manage to track down the place where my family is being held, and I know that there are functional cameras inside. It looks like they're all broadcasting a live feed, most likely to a series of monitors in a surveillance room. Unfortunately, I can't seem to tap into that broadcast. If I could do that, then I could watch and put my mind at ease knowing that whatever happens, I'll be the first one to know about it. But like I said, I can't access the feed. I know you're good with computers, so I was hoping you'd be able to help me."

Matt hesitated. "Hang on a second."

Frowning, Light watched as he left the room. He barely managed to catch a glimpse of a cell phone being pulled out before the door closed. A few minutes later, the younger teen returned.

"Okay," Matt said, the phone nowhere to be seen. "I can help you."

_Did he just call someone and ask for permission?_ Light thought, puzzled.

Matt walked closer. "Give me your computer."

Light obediently handed it over, then watched as the other teen worked on it for several minutes. It wasn't long before he looked up, goggles reflecting the dim light coming in through the windows.

"I can do it," he reported, "but it'll take a while."

"Can you do it before this time tomorrow?" Light asked hopefully. "That's when the mission is being carried out."

Matt worked for a moment longer, fiddling with the keyboard. "Yeah, that should be doable. Like I said, it'll take a bit of time. Do you mind if I take your computer back to my room to work on it?"

Light wasted no time in agreeing. "Of course. Whatever it takes, so long as you have it done by this time tomorrow."

"That won't be a problem." Matt got to his feet, Light's computer tucked under one arm. "I'll have it back to you sooner, assuming everything goes smoothly." He started for the door. "If that's all, I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Light agreed. "See you…" He trailed off. Matt had already left the room.

The instant the doors closed, Light allowed himself to slump back against the pillows. The deed was done. So long as Matt came through for him, he would be able to watch the confrontation. He'd know immediately if anything went wrong.

Tomorrow, he'd be able to watch L's every move.

†††

The following night, L's plan commenced.

Well…to be perfectly honest, he hadn't chosen a plan yet. He still had two options, and despite having talked things over with the task force the previous day, he found himself unable to decide between his two plans.

For the task force, the two plans differed little in nature. The first involved barging into the building, guns blazing, in an attempt to get the drop on their opponents out of pure shock. They would spare none of the aggressors, and blast their way straight down to where Light's family was being held. The second plan involved sneaking their way in, flitting about in the shadows as a means of surprising their opponents. They would take out whoever got in their way with as much stealth as possible, then make their way down to rescue Light's family.

This was what the task force had been told. L, however, knew the truth—that the first and second plans involved far more than how they would enter the building.

In truth, the first plan was the one that would eliminate Light's connections in Japan and make sure that he never had to worry about someone bringing him harm ever again. They would charge in, guns blazing, and in the chaos it would be all too easy for L to make sure that Light's connections ended up dead. The second plan was the one that would leave Light happy for now, but in constant fear for however long it took for the next criminal to come along and kidnap his family. L could always try to protect them, but he couldn't keep it up forever. Eventually, something would go wrong. By sneaking into the building, masking their presence, and picking off everyone in their way, they could slip right through the enemy's defenses and rescue Light's family without much danger of them being killed. The task force would help him in whatever plan he chose, completely unaware of his true intentions.

L was the first to admit that neither of his plans were particularly appealing. Still, though, the time to decide was almost upon him. In just a few minutes, L, the task force, and his own personal squad of police officers would be heading to the gang's headquarters.

He shook his head lightly, so lost in thought that he almost didn't hear the door open behind him. He was sitting at his old desk in the investigation room, not expecting anyone to interrupt him.

"L?" someone asked from the doorway, and the detective recognized Matsuda's voice immediately. "Oh, you're in here! I've been looking for you!"

L turned his chair to face Matsuda. The village idiot was hovering in the doorway, a goofy grin on his face. "Yes, Matsuda? What's happening?"

"Oh, the rest of the task force sent me to find you," was the happy response. "It's about time to leave, and you didn't show up. We were supposed to gather in the parking garage below this building, right?"

Frowning, L looked over at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, it was time for him to head down and lead the expedition. "Yes, that's correct. Forgive me, Matsuda, but time seemed to slip away from me."

"It's no problem, really!" He smiled at him kindly. "But let's hurry up now, okay? The sooner we leave the better."

L agreed with a slow nod, getting to his feet. He made his way over to the door and began heading to the elevator, Matsuda trailing just slightly behind. He felt a prickle of irritation as the older officer followed along with light, happy footsteps, that perpetual smile never leaving his face. _How can he be so happy when we're about to put our lives on the line? He really is an idiot._

"Hey, L?" Matsuda chirped, stepping into the elevator after him and selecting the basement.

"What is it?" the detective asked in a flat tone. He wasn't interested in speaking to the village idiot at the moment.

Matsuda's eyes dipped, and for the first time, that smile fell slightly. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all. I know you didn't have to come all the way back here to help us, so it means a lot that you opted to help us out."

L immediately felt a wave of guilt. But he was swift to shove it down below the surface, replying, "It was of no consequence to me, I assure you. It was the right thing to do."

"I know, but that doesn't make it mean any less," Matsuda said. "Like I said, thanks for helping us rescue the chief."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal the basement. L stepped out into the large space, eyes raking across the armored trucks that would cart him and his team off to the headquarters of the gang they were aiming to take down. The task force and his personal team of officers were already waiting. All of them were wearing the standard issue bulletproof vests and other such safety equipment. L had opted to go small, bringing along only the four remaining members of the task force and a squad of eight additional men. Any more, and the situation would become too complicated. This was the perfect number, enough to carry out either one of his plans. Matsuda gave L one final nod of thanks, then took off in the direction of the other task force members. L watched him go with a heavy heart.

He still hadn't decided what he would do.

"Hey, L!" Aizawa called from across the garage. "Are we going to get out of here?"

For a moment, L found himself unable to respond. Then he shook himself out of his stupor and said, "Yes, of course. We'll depart immediately. Are you all ready?"

Each member of the task force gave him a determined nod, as did the members of his personal squad.

"Did you decide on a plan?" Aizawa asked as the other members of the task force began climbing into one of the two armored vans. "We should know exactly what we're going to do before we get there."

"I've already told you the two plans," L reminded him. "All I have to do is tell you which one we'll be executing. Unfortunately, I haven't made my decision yet. I'll tell you before you head into the building."

Aizawa scoffed, "You realize this is ridiculous, right? We're heading to face our enemies, and you still haven't decided on a plan. That's completely absurd."

L looked away sharply. "Just get into the van and drive to the targets' location. Let me handle the details of the plan."

The man shot him a suspicious glare, but obeyed without further protest. A few moments later, L was slipping into the back of the van with the rest of the task force. Soon, they would be at headquarters. Soon, he would make his decision.

†††

Beyond, not far away, was leaning on the wall outside Sayu's cell when his phone buzzed softly. Frowning, he checked the message briefly.

_L is making his move. Remove yourself from the premises immediately and make sure you're not seen. L can't know that you were involved with this._

He chuckled to himself. It was more than likely that L already suspected that he was involved—assuming he wasn't completely insane at this point. But still, it wouldn't do for him to be caught at the scene of the crime. He sent back a brief message of affirmation, then slid his phone into his pocket and began slinking towards the exit of the apartment complex. He paused just briefly, looking back at the cell where Sayu was located.

_I can't save her now,_ Beyond thought, though it wasn't really the truth. _She'll die here. Tonight._

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he turned away and left the containment area.

_It's too late to go back now._

†††

It was pitch black when L arrived at headquarters. The vans had been parked just outside the tunnel, and seeing as the tunnel had been sealed off by the NPA earlier in the day, it was child's play to lead his men directly to the entrance to the maintenance tunnel. After a short walk, the old apartment complex was in sight.

_This is it. We've arrived._

His men stopped, just barely hidden by the overgrown shrubs that had used to be a part of the scenery around the hotel. Now, they provided perfect cover. The entrance to the hotel was in sight. Not far away, Light's family was being held, along with Takada. Everyone Light cared about, everyone he knew, was in this very location.

"So, L?" Aizawa whispered from beside him. The man's gun was drawn, the safety off as his eyes raked over the apartment complex. "What's the plan?"

The detective kept his eyes trained on the building. The time had come for him to commit to his future. What would he choose? The first plan, in which everyone died and Light was freed? Or the second plan, in which everyone lived, but with terrible consequences? It was an impossible decision to make, and L could feel it gnawing away at his heart.

"L?" Aizawa repeated in a low hiss. "We need to move in. Decide, now!"

The detective's teen closed down on the tip of his tongue to keep himself from snapping back at the man. _I can't think. Just let me think!_

"You've had plenty of time to think!" Aizawa growled, and L realized that he'd spoken aloud. "We need to go _now."_

_Yes…we need to go now, or all will be lost. The longer we wait here, the more likely it is that someone on the inside will figure out what's going on. We can't afford that._ L's fingers clenched firmly on the handle of the gun he was carrying. He too was suited up in the necessary safety gear, including the small handgun he was currently holding. "My orders," he began slowly, uncertainly.

"Yeah?" Aizawa prompted urgently. "What are they?"

He felt the eyes of the task force burning into him. He had to choose. He had to choose _now._

"L!"

The detective shook his head from side to side. He felt so conflicted, so confused, and—

And then, just like that, it all fell into place. He looked up, and he was calm. He knew what he had to do. He knew what had to be done. Even if it hurt Light.

"Come on, would you just choose al—"

"My orders," L started again, gaze fierce and determined as he watched the apartment complex for any sign of movement. "My orders are this: we'll go for the first tactic. I'm sending you in full force. Once you're in, take down everyone in your way."

There was a deep, uncertain silence.

"So that's it, then?" Matsuda spoke up, his voice unusually reserved. "We're going to put Light's family at risk by just charging in full force? We're not going to be stealthy at all?"

"You wanted my orders," L reminded them grimly. "And now you have them. Charge into the building. Take the gang out." He turned to face his personal squad. They were emotionless, as always. They were entirely loyal to him, and would never let their emotions compromise their mission. If L told them to die, they would do it willingly and without hesitation. Which was funny, because L had a feeling that he might be using that exact order by the time this mission was over.

"This is dangerous," Aizawa broke in. "Are you sure you won't use the second plan instead? It gives us a higher chance of—"

L cut him off with a sharp glare. "I've given you my orders. Now move out!"

His personal officers wasted no time. With only short nods of confirmation, they were off and running. Their guns were drawn, helmets and protective shields gleaming in the moonlight. They held no concern for their own lives, only for L's final goal. They were good soldiers, through and through.

Which was more than he could say for the task force.

They were simply standing there, staring at him in shock. L knew what they were thinking. When they'd heard of his plan of using the 'scare tactic,' in which they attempted to frighten the enemy by charging in full force and slaughtering everyone in their path, they'd been horrified. They'd never thought he would actually use it. But now here they were, and L was ordering them to do something that went against every fiber of their being.

They didn't seem to want to obey him. And that was fine with L. If they wanted to stay out of his way, then they could do it. All he cared about was taking care of the situation at hand.

L rose from his crouch, gun in hand, and followed his officers towards the building. He'd given his orders. He'd made his choice.

And that choice, as unfortunate as it was, would mean the elimination of everyone in the building.


	35. Laguz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter, even if you guys might hate me for it ;)

The plan had begun.

L's personal squad of police officers went first, making their way to the lowest level of the hotel, where the gang members were hiding. Meanwhile, L and the task force waited by the stairwell for the signal that would soon be sent through. The signal would tell them that it was safe to head down and begin the second wave of their attack, which the task force would be a part of. L, too, would join the task force in the second stage of their raid.

They knew the team of officers had made first contact when gunshots rang out, echoing through the decaying halls of the abandoned apartment complex. L had no clue how many enemies were waiting for them in the lower levels, but he'd calculated that the first wave of eight men should be able to take out the majority of their enemies. But of course, they would never be able to take out all of them. They would send the signal, and L would lead the task force into the lower levels. The task force would take out the rest of the enemies, and—

L was shaken rudely from his thoughts by the sound of a signal flare screeching to life far below him. That was the signal. Either all the enemies had been eliminated (very unlikely), or the last man alive had sent the signal just before dying. Those were L's orders, after all. Fight until the last breath, and send the signal when you don't have the strength to fight any longer.

"That's the signal," Aizawa reported, his expression grim. "It's time to move out."

"Y-yeah," Matsuda stuttered, looking nothing short of horrified. "I h-hope that the first team is okay…"

They were most likely dead. That was a part of the plan, after all. "Yes, I hope so as well," L lied.

Aizawa cleared his throat nervously. "Well…let's move out."

After that, it was quick. L ushered the task force in front of him and followed them down the stairwell. The team raced down the stairs towards the lowest floor of the building, rushing to reach their goal. The task force still had hope that the first team was alive, that they'd achieved their mission. L, on the other hand, knew the truth.

_How many did they manage to kill?_ L wondered as they neared the door that would spit them out in the lowest level of the building. _When we open this door, will we be immediately shot at?_

They'd reached the door. By now the task force was silent, each one of them recognizing the gravity of the situation. L motioned silently, and the task force immediately cleared the way. L took the spot nearest the door, flattening himself against the wall and placing his hand on the doorknob. Behind him, Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda were taking cover in the same way.

This was it, then.

L took a deep breath, forcing his nerves down. He would _not_ lose his cool over something like this. He would stay calm and get the job done. And it was with that in mind that the detective gritted his teeth, held his breath, and shoved open the door.

As the door swung open, L kept himself pressed flat against the wall beside it. He waited, breath shallow and soft, for any remaining enemies to begin firing in the direction of the door, or to make _any_ kind of noise. But after a few moments, when nothing came, L knew that all the men in the first room must have already been killed. He raised his hand and signaled for the task force to move in.

L watched as Aizawa took the lead. The man pushed L out of the way and inched close to the door, gun held up before him as he peered around the corner. His expression was stony and emotionless as he gave a small nod and stepped into the doorway. When he wasn't immediately gunned down, the rest of the task force slunk forward after him. Once they'd all entered the room, L followed behind them, pausing just outside the doorway. It had been his idea to go along with the task force in order to fulfill his real mission, but there was no way he was putting his life in any more danger than necessary. He'd use the task force as a shield if he had to; nothing would stop him from getting back to Light.

"All clear," Aizawa reported in a low whisper.

That was when L finally stepped through the door. And what he saw…

The detective stared in horror at the scene. The room, once used as a large dining space, was covered in red. The furniture, several tables and countless chairs, had all been overturned in the scuffle. What was more, they weren't all in one piece. It appeared that their enemies had attempted to use the tables as shields. It hadn't gone well. All they'd achieved was a few more moments of life before L's men gunned them down.

L slowly walked further into the room. Every bit of it was old and decayed, from the red carpet (now a slightly darker red) to the peeling white wallpaper (not so white anymore). As he walked along the bloodstained carpet, he found himself stunned with the sheer amount of scarlet around him, and the bodies from which that scarlet had originated. Looking around, L counted at least a dozen men that had been gunned down. Luckily, all of them were enemies. As of yet, they hadn't come across a single one of L's men.

"This…" Matsuda shook his head like a child, clutching at his hair. "This is terrible. Was it really necessary? This loss of life…"

L pitied the poor man. "This is the only way, I'm afraid."

Aizawa lowered his gun, having finished sweeping the room. "There are about fifteen men here, all dead." He looked to the door on the other side of the room, where yet another bloodbath would no doubt be awaiting them. His features were twisted into a bitter grimace. "Let's move on."

Observing the faces of the task force, L knew that they didn't approve of this. They were police officers, yes, but according to their files (which L had taken the time to go over long before he'd started working with them) they'd never been faced with so much death in one place before. Even the most severe cases they solved dealt with three, maybe four victims at the most—and even that was rare. Murder wasn't a common thing for them. And this…this was insane.

Aizawa took the lead once again. He pushed open the door, glanced inside briefly, then moved inside. A few moments later, he called back, "It's all clear in here as well!"

L followed the task force inside. This room, too, was painted red. There weren't as many bodies this time around, with only four men left dead on the floor. Unfortunately, one of L's troops was among the dead. The detective waited as the task force swept the room for survivors. Evidently, there were none—and soon enough, they were moving on to the next room.

It went on like that for far too long. They found the bodies of the gang members strewn about like fallen leaves on a sidewalk in autumn, the blood of each sprayed up over the walls and across the floors. The further they went, the more of L's soldiers were found among the dead. The detective kept silent count. He knew that once he found the eighth soldier, they would no longer be safe. From that point on, all gang members would be alive and kicking. And eventually he found that eighth soldier, burnt-out flare in hand, stretched out over the ground in front of an elevator. It seemed he'd taken out his murderer just before death, for no one was alive in the room.

"That's eight," L reported in a low tone. "All of my soldiers are dead. From this point on, we have no idea how many of the kidnappers remain. Be on your guard; the next room may very well contain enemies."

The task force sent him determined nods. Then Aizawa, still in the lead, pushed the next door open a crack. Tension was thick in the air as the man peered through the tiny gap, then yanked his head back immediately. "One man," he whispered. "Seems injured, and he's armed. He hasn't seen us."

"Take him out," L hissed.

Aizawa's head whipped around, eyes wide. "You want me to kill—?"

"He'll kill _us_ if you don't take him out," the detective insisted in a low tone. Honestly, damn that man's sense of honor! This was why he liked his officers better. They followed his orders without question.

Aizawa flinched as L's words met his ears. But then he seemed to steel himself, giving a short gesture of agreement and raising his gun. He took another look through the crack between the door and the wall and leveled the muzzle of his gun at the target L couldn't see. He stopped. Hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" L hissed. "Take him out before he sees or hears us!"

Aizawa stood stalk-still, unwavering.

L's eyes narrowed to slits. "Fine. Get out of my way."

The man looked up in alarm as L approached, sputtering out half a protest before he was pushed out of the way and L was taking his place, leveling his weapon at the man. It was a miracle he hadn't heard their little scuffle—maybe he was more heavily injured, and thus dazed, than they thought. But no matter his condition, it took only a moment for L's finger to tighten on the trigger, and for a soft crack to echo off the walls. L had equipped his men's weapons and his own with mufflers to keep the remaining enemies from hearing the gunshots.

"He's down," L bit out, turning back to face the task force. His expression grew in severity when he saw the horrified looks being shot his way. _You_ agreed _to this! Don't look so shocked!_ "No one else appears to be in the room. Aizawa, lead the way."

The man's gun was aimed down at the floor as he stared at L, expression somewhere between nausea and hatred. But then he seemed to steel himself, no doubt reminding himself that necessary if they wanted to reach Soichiro and his family, and moved towards the door.

"This isn't necessary," Matsuda was whispering, though L paid him no mind. "We can just disarm them, _injure_ them, just… _something!"_

Aizawa reached for the door, pushing it open a bit more and peering through the crack. He pushed it wider, presumably seeing no one.

Then he froze.

"Get down!" the man roared suddenly, lurching to one side and tacking Matsuda and Mogi, who had come up behind him, to the ground. Not even a moment later, gunfire was roaring through the now open door. So, their enemies had hidden themselves, then chosen to attack at the opportune moment. How predictable.

L watched with irritation as the task force took cover on either side of the door and began returning fire. How long were they going to take? He had to do this quickly!

The last few shots rang out, and then it was over.

The task force drew back, and Aizawa reported, "All clear."

L brushed past the task force and walked into the room. Sure enough, the four men that had been taking cover beneath the tables were either dead or unconscious—L didn't have the time to check, and right now it didn't matter. He'd sweep through the building when he was done and make sure that no one was still breathing.

That was when he looked up, and realized that they weren't in a room, they were in a _hallway_. There were countless doors on either side, each one presumably leading to a hotel room. _Light's family and Takada are here somewhere,_ L thought, eyes raking up and down the doors. _This is the perfect place to hold hostages. The only question is, where? And why weren't there more guards? Something feels off here._

"L! Look out!"

The detective whirled around in shock, just a moment before more shots rang out. He felt someone's arms close around him from the back, spinning him around. Then he heard a faint whine, and something warm splashed against his back.

" _Matsuda!"_

Aizawa's cry echoed around the corridor as more shots split the air, and a moment later L was pushed to the ground and pinned there by an unmoving weight. The detective groaned as the weight bore down upon him, struggling to push whatever it was off of him.

"L, stay down!" Aizawa yelled from somewhere to his right.

L listened to the man, keeping his head down and listening to the gunfire overhead. His cheek was pressed to the carpet so that all he could see was the wall. He had no idea what was going on. And what the hell was this weight? Whatever it was, it was dripping hot liquid down his back.

The gunfire continued for a few moments longer before going silent. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a desperate voice said, "Hang on!"

L felt something heavy being rolled off of his back. Hissing at the dull pain in his ribs from being flattened, the detective pried himself off the ground. Then he froze, the scene before him finally registering.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa cried out, shaking the man by the shoulders. "Matsuda, come on!"

It all clicked into place, then. When L walked into the middle of the hallway, reinforcements had been right around the corner. And when they'd attacked, L had been right in the line of fire. Matsuda, the idiot…

Aizawa turned his head to Mogi, who was standing at his shoulder as he knelt beside Matsuda. "Mogi, do you see those file cabinets over there? Take them and barricade the far door, that's where those bastards are coming from! I'm sure there will be more in a few minutes."

Mogi nodded. "On it!" The man took off in the direction of the far door and began wrestling the file cabinets into position. It wouldn't hold off the rest of the gang members for long, but it would provide a bit of cover.

As Mogi worked, Aizawa rolled Matsuda onto his back and stripped him of his bulletproof vest. L stood by, helpless to do anything but watch as the man examined the several bullet wounds carved into the man's back.

"Is he still alive?" L asked curiously.

Aizawa glared furiously. "Show some concern, could you? He saved your life, and how he could be dying because of it!"

L stared blankly. Then he shook his head, saying, "Let's get him out of the hallway. When reinforcements arrive, he shouldn't be in the line of fire."

Giving a brief jerk of his head, Aizawa hooked his arms beneath Matsuda and drug his body into the room-like area just before the entrance to the hallway.

"You didn't answer my question," L pointed out as he watched Aizawa work. "Is he alive or not?"

Aizawa's hand reached around, two fingers pressing into Matsuda's neck. There was a long moment of silence as the man felt for a heartbeat. Then he looked up, expression grim. "He's holding on. Give me a hand with this, would you?"

L fought off a disgusted expression. He was rarely in the field, so working to patch up an injured man wasn't exactly in his field of expertise. But still, this was his duty. "Of course," he responded belatedly, watching Aizawa begin to rip the lower part of Matsuda's shirt into strips and bind the wounds. L knew enough about guns and the wounds they inflicted to know that this was by no means a permanent fix. It would barely stem the blood, and the bullets were still lodged within the wounds. But considering the circumstances, it was the best they could do.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" Mogi called from the hallway, and bullets were whizzing through the air a moment later. The man swiftly appeared, ducking behind the door to avoid the gunfire. "They're pushing at the barrier!"

"Damn!" Aizawa roared. "Look, we need to get Matsuda out of here! Maybe we should retreat and call for our own reinforcements."

"No!" L hissed. "If we retreat now, the kidnappers will move the hostages. The best thing we can do now is to leave Matsuda here and move forward. There's nothing more we can do for him."

"There's no way we're leaving him here like this!" Aizawa snarled.

"Would you rather the Yagami family be killed?" L responded heatedly. "Retreating now means that they'll be killed! That is, if they're not dead or gone already!"

Aizawa looked away sharply, hands pressing at the cloth over his fallen comrade's wounds.

Surprisingly, Mogi was the one that spoke up in his favor. "Aizawa, we should listen to him."

The man looked up at him, stunned. "What?"

Mogi continued, "Retreating now would be a mistake. We need to push forward and find the Yagami family. We need to rescue our chief, even at the cost of our own lives."

"Even if that's true, we can't leave Matsuda here!"

"Then we won't." Mogi clenched his jaw determinedly. "You and I can stay here with Matsuda and hold off those reinforcements. Meanwhile, L can search the remaining rooms and look for the Yagami family. After that…well, we'll see what happens from there."

L was swift to agree. "That's an excellent plan." _Assuming Light's family and Takada are still alive, I can deal with them without the interference of the task force._

The sound of someone banging on the door echoed down the hallway. Muted voices sounded, and L knew that the reinforcements were working to break down the locked door, then the barrier. They'd already broken through the window (thus the sudden burst of gunfire) and were no doubt close to getting into the hallway. If that happened, they'd find themselves in a rather unfortunate situation.

Aizawa seemed to realize the same thing. "Fine, let's do it. We'll hold them off while you search the rest of the rooms, L. Just hurry it up!"

L gave a short nod of agreement, then slunk back out into the hallway. He was careful to keep low, making sure he never rose above the crude barrier they'd created—and luckily for him, it seemed that the men on the other side of that barrier were too invested in breaking it down to notice him creeping around.

The detective started with the nearest door, pushing it open. To his dismay, there was nothing but a normal hotel room behind it. The next door yielded nothing better, nor did the next one, or the one after that. L found himself dashing from door to door with no sign of the hostages. It wasn't until he came to one of the last doors that he finally found something of interest.

When he opened the door, the first thing he felt was a draft of cold air. It was rather strange, seeing as the hotel room was underground and away from all sources of fresh air. Frowning, L made his way into the room. It looked just like all the other rooms—a large bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and other such things. But when he walked further in, he saw that the rug at the foot of the bed was rumpled and torn up. Leaning down, he pressed his hand over it and felt another swish of cool air just behind it. _So that's it, huh?_

L pried the rug up. As he'd suspected, there was a half-open hatch beneath it. Yanking it open, he was gifted with the sight of a dark tunnel descending into the earth. It appeared that the kidnappers had carved out their own secret room. Or rather, their own secret set of prison cells. The detective climbed down into the tunnel and descended into darkness. There was no light for him to see by, so he placed his fingertips on either side of the tunnel to make sure there were no odd turns or dips that would get him lost. Fortunately, the tunnel was narrow and short. It wasn't long before he reached the end and was spit out into a large, dimly lit room. The walls were made of old, cracking stone, and the floor was nothing but gravel. It appeared he'd found where the hostages were being kept. There were four doors for four hostages. How convenient.

L approached the first door and placed his hand on the doorknob, testing it out. The door was locked, but the wood was old and rotted. It looked like one solid kick would break it down. The detective made sure his gun was loaded and stood back, ready to kick open the door. Then he paused, the gravity of the situation overwhelming him. This was it. His decision now would be final. There would be no going back if he went through with killing whoever was behind this door, and then whoever lurked behind the other three.

Could he really go through with his plan to remove Light's connections in Japan?

L shook his head lightly, conflicted. _I've already decided,_ he reminded himself. _I've already decided to make sure that Light never has to hurt again, not after this._ But somehow, seeing it in person, knowing that _he_ was about to pull the trigger…it was nauseating.

L stared at the door uncertainly. Closed his eyes. Reaffirmed.

_I will do what must be done._

†††

Light's eyes were glued to the screen as the mission began. As promised, it was the dead of night when L's team arrived in two armored vans. The teen watched with bated breath, as both the task force and L's team exited the vans. L was the last to leave, looking almost unrecognizable under all his protective gear. Even his face was partially covered, helmet hiding him from view.

The teen's eyes didn't leave the monitor as L ordered his squad of eight men into the building. His stomach was twisting with nervousness as they headed for the building. This was it. When this mission began, there was a chance that his family would be killed by their kidnappers. He sincerely hoped that it didn't come to that. L had promised to keep his family safe, after all. He would hate for him to break that promise.

Seeing that L wasn't planning on entering the building just yet, Light switched over to a different camera. This one was just inside the entrance hall of the apartment complex, and showed the squad of eight men locating the stairwell. Unfortunately, there were no security cameras in the stairwell—and so Light, remembering what L had said about the kidnappers holding his family on the lower levels, chose the lowest level possible and found a camera that was broadcasting a live feed of the room containing the door to the stairwell. If the squad of men was heading to the lowest level, this would be where they came out.

Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long before the door burst open, and L's squad charged in full force.

Light's first reaction was shock. Just what the hell did L think he was doing? If he charged in like this, there was a chance the kidnappers would deem the whole operation compromised and kill his family! Was L insane? It would be much safer for everyone if he snuck into the complex and took down the gang members as peacefully as possible. _Well, at least they're not killing the gang members. That would be—_

Light gasped as shots suddenly rang out—and not on the behalf of the gang members. L's team was firing upon their enemies with the intent to kill, the bullets from their guns endless as they shot down the opposing gunmen. The gang didn't even have the chance to react before they were downed, their blood splattering the walls behind them and pooling on the carpet, turning the red fabric black. The teen's hand shot to cover his mouth as he watched the massacre. Had L ordered his squad to do this? Had he ordered his team to mercilessly slaughter everyone in their path? He had no way of knowing since the cameras didn't broadcast audio, but based on what they were doing…

Light shuddered. If L had indeed ordered his men to do this—and he assumed that he had—what was the purpose? This wasn't right. These men may have been evil, but they didn't need to die! They could just as easily have been taken down using nonlethal methods.

But L…L had gone straight for the throat.

The team was moving. They hadn't lost any men in their first attack, and now they were moving on to the next room. This one held another team of enemies, which were taken down just as mercilessly. But this time, one of L's men was gunned down as well. To Light's shock, not a single remaining member of the squad stopped to help the downed man. Instead, they stepped over his body as if he were just another enemy, and moved on to the next room. They didn't even blink. _What is this, a suicide mission? Do they all expect to die, or are they all just heartless?_

The next room went the same, as did the next, and the room after that. Enemies were slaughtered without hesitation, and members of L's squad fell in turn. Soon, there was only one left. And then even he had fallen, lighting off a signal flare as he bled out on the floor of the apartment complex. The light of the flare would never reach the surface, but Light knew that the sound must have been deafening. L would have heard it from where he'd taken up station beside the stairwell.

Sure enough, switching back to the camera trained on the task force, Light saw that L was leading the task force forward. As the moved, Light could do nothing but stare blankly. _It almost seems like L ordered his team to go into the building and get as far as they could before dying. I bet all of them had a signal flare that they were supposed to light off if they were the last one left. L had to know that eight men couldn't take on the whole gang, that's why that measure was taken. And that means that he planned on those men dying. He planned it all._ The teen fell back against the cushions of the cot, stunned. _No…he's not that merciless, is he? I know he's cunning and ruthless under certain circumstances, but this is just…_

His thoughts trailed off into silence as he watched L linger behind the task force to make sure he stayed safe. The detective seemed unbothered by the blood-spattered walls after a brief moment of surprise, otherwise completely cool and unaffected as he traversed the scarlet halls.

All of Beyond's warnings were echoing in his ears.

Light watched in silent horror as L and the task force progressed. It wasn't long until they reached a long hallway, and L walked out recklessly into the middle of it. Light saw what L did not—the reinforcements emerging from the far door, guns aimed at his back. He lurched up in bed, hands gripping his computer so tight that his knuckles turned white. But his worry was all needless, for Matsuda was quicker than the opposing gunmen. He darted forward and wrapped his arms around L, using his own back to block the bullets.

The teen was relieved momentarily. Then Matsuda collapsed, and he realized too late what might have happened. Luckily, Aizawa and Mogi were there to save the day. They fended off the enemy reinforcements and got Matsuda and L safely out of the hallway. After that, Light watched as Matsuda was tended to. Again, he found himself cursing the lack of sound. It appeared that the idiot was alive, but he couldn't be sure. But what he _could_ be sure of was that L was planning something. The detective had a short conversation with the task force before rising and darting off, presumably to search for his family.

Speaking of which…

Light began switching between camera angles, hoping to catch a glimpse of his family. Matt had brought in his laptop just moments before the operation began, so he hadn't had the chance to look for them. He hoped desperately that nothing had happened to them.

It took a few minutes to find the right angle. But finally, after minutes of searching, he found it. The shot was dark, so dark that he could barely make out what was happening. Through the graininess and darkness of the image, Light was barely able to make out the gravel floor and cracking stone walls. There were four doors, each one rotted and nearly falling apart. This was it—this had to be where they were keeping his family! The teen was preparing to search for the cameras that showed the insides of the cells when the door to the room opened, and he stopped to watch.

Two men stormed into the detention area, slamming the door behind them.

_"We've been compromised!"_ one of them snapped, and Light nearly jumped out of his skin before realizing that _this_ camera was broadcasting audio. Must have been an added security measure to watch the hostages. _"We need to take the prisoners and leave!"_

_Oh no!_ Light thought, leaning close to his screen. _They'll take my family away and we'll lose our chance to get them back! L, you have to hurry!_

_"There's no time!"_ the other man insisted. _"Didn't you watch the security footage? A squad of men came in here and completely obliterated our defenses! There are only a few of us left!"_

_"So what do we do? What are our orders?"_

The first man turned on the second, a vicious snarl on his face. _"I'm giving you your orders now, you idiot!"_

So that one was the leader of this operation? Light watched intently, memorizing the details of his face. It could come in handy later.

_"R-right, sir!"_ the underling stuttered.

The leader sighed in exasperation. _"There's no time to take the hostages with us, and we're certainly not letting our attackers get their hands on them. L may have defied us, but we'll make him pay for it. He's not getting his friend's family back."_

Light's heart lurched into his throat as he registered the words pouring through the microphone. If that was true…it sounded like they were going to kill his family. _I can't let that happen!_

The underling laughed, though the noise was far more malicious than amused. _"So that's it, then? We slaughter them all? That's a bit ruthless, don't you think?"_

_"There's no time for this!"_ the leader insisted furiously. _"You have your gun, right? Get in there and start killing them!"_

Light's blood ran cold. _No…no! I can't let this happen! There has to be something I can do to stop it!_ His eyes darted from side to side frantically, but he found nothing to help him. There was nothing he could do to help his family. "Damn it!" he hissed aloud, careful to keep his voice down lest Watari come running. "I just need their names! I can see their faces, I just need to know what to write!"

The men were walking towards the cells. One of them had their hand on the handle of the door of the first cell and was groping at his belt for the key.

_He's going to kill them!_

Light swiftly switched the camera angle, checking to see where L was. No…he was still in the hallway, searching through the room furthest away from where his family was being held! He still had so many rooms to search; he wouldn't make it in time. The teen switched the camera back and saw that the men had unlocked the first cell. A single click brought up the angle from inside the cell, and he was horrified to see Takada cowering in one corner.

_"N-no, please!"_ she wailed, and Light suddenly wished that he couldn't hear the audio. He couldn't hear this, he couldn't! _"Please don't kill me! He said he wouldn't kill me!"_

One of the men raised a gun.

"No!" Light choked out, lurching to his knees and nearly knocking his computer off the bed. "Takada, no!"

It was too late.

A single shot rang out, and Light couldn't tear his eyes away before the girl's blood splattered the walls behind her. Her body slumped over, scarlet dripping from the bullet hole in her forehead.

_"I would have liked to play with that one,"_ the bystander remarked with a snicker. _"Too bad we had to cut her down like the bitch she was."_

The shooter lowered his gun. _"Quiet. We need to dispose of the others."_

L was still too far away. By the time he arrived, his family would be dead.

_Their names. I need their names!_

They were approaching the next cell. They were approaching the next cell, and Light was helpless. He had to do _something!_

His eyes raked the room once more, and just as before, there was nothing for him to do. Would he be forced to watch his family die? Would he be forced to stand by and do nothing? Was there nothing he could do to help them?

His breath stalled in his chest as he realized…there _was_ something he could do. There was one, terrible thing he could do to stop these murderers from slaughtering his family. One thing, and one thing only.

Light rose from the bed as if in a dream. He knew that the shinigami was near. He had been hearing the rustle of wings up in the rafters for hours. He was most likely here to watch the show. Now…he would see something he would never forget.

"Ryuk," Light whispered, his voice dull and laden with shock.

He received no response, but he knew he was there.

"Ryuk," Light repeated softly. "I…" He trailed off. If he did this, then there would be no going back. For just a moment, he considered letting it go. But then he remembered his sister, terrified and alone, awaiting rescue. He wouldn't let her die. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he sat by and did nothing. And so with that in mind, his gaze became firm, his voice determined, his expression hard. "Ryuk. Give me the eyes."

Once again, there was silence—but somewhere high above him, the flutter of wings quickened.

"Give me the eyes!" Light repeated in a low tone. "Now, Ryuk! I will give you half my lifespan in return for your power!"

For a long, painful moment, nothing happened. But then…everything…just…

_Changed_.

Light's eyes snapped to the monitor. His hands were already opening the Death Note. A pen was already in his hand. He would kill them. He would kill them both.

_Daichi Moto._

_Hikaru Ueda._

Their names were already in the Death Note. Their lifespans were already changing. They would die.

But it wouldn't be soon enough.

Light's desperate gamble had stolen half his lifespan. It had broken his promise to L. And in the end…

Light could do nothing but watch as the same man, Hikaru, raised a gun to his father's head and pulled the trigger. He could do nothing but watch as Soichiro toppled over, blood pouring from the wound in his head. The men began moving for the door, clearly intent upon killing his mother and his sister.

_At least…at least they won't make it that far._ Light stared with dripping eyes as the men made it as far as the closed cell door before falling to the ground, both stricken down by heart attacks. Both of them were dead. But in the end, he hadn't been able to save Takada or his father. Both of them had perished alongside the criminals that slaughtered them.

Light could do nothing but stare at the monitor, even though no one was left alive in the shot he was watching. Tears dripped down his face in silent streams, and he couldn't even bring himself to raise his hands to wipe them away. When at last he felt his hands moving, they didn't move to his face. Instead, they shifted robotically towards the bedside table, where a handheld mirror had been left for him by Watari, just in case he wanted to see to his hair. Now it would serve a different purpose.

The teen held the mirror in front of his face, and his eyes snapped shut of their own accord before he could look at them. He didn't want to see, he realized. He didn't want to see what he'd done to himself. He didn't want to see the physical mark left by his deal with the devil.

_It was necessary,_ he knew. _I did this to save my family. L would never have made it in time. Even now, he's still searching that hallway. If I hadn't given my life—or at least, a part of my life—to save them, they'd be dead now. But in the end…I broke my promise to L. He'll hate me for this. L…I'm so sorry…_

He still held the mirror in front of his face. Then, slowly, he lowered it to his lap. "I can't do it," he whispered aloud. "I can't see." His hands released the mirror, and the accursed thing tumbled from his lap to the ground below, striking the tile and shattering into a plethora of sparkling pieces. His burning eyes were covered by his cool fingers, the digits pressing into his transformed eyes and rubbing harshly as if to erase his fateful deed. But he couldn't erase it. In the end, faced with the choice between his promise to L and the lives of his family, he'd made the obvious choice.

What would L do to him now?

Tears still dripped steadily from between his fingers. Light could barely bring himself to remove his hands and open his eyes to stare numbly at the monitor. His mother and Sayu were still alive in there, waiting for L to rescue them.

_Please, L…you must hurry. I can't watch anyone else die tonight._

†††

_I'll kill them._

L stared at the closed door to the first cell, heart in his throat as came to terms with his final decision. It would hurt Light to know that his family was dead, but it had to be done. For Light, he would do this. He would make sure that Light's family never hurt him again. Even if he had to kill them himself. Whoever was behind this door…and whoever was behind the other three…

L brandished his gun determinedly, backing up in preparation to kick down the first door. He wouldn't hesitate. He would shoot to kill. It was with that mentality that the detective lurched forward and raised his foot, delivering a deadly kick to the decaying wood of the door. The thing buckled beneath his weight and caved inward, and L was in the cell immediately, searching for the person inside. And what he saw…

His eyes widened as he took in the scene. He'd been planning on killing whoever was in this cell, but…she was already dead.

It was Takada. She didn't look well. Her skin was unnaturally pale and marked with lacerations and bruises. Her clothing was tattered. And most damningly of all, there was a clean bullet hole through her forehead. Blood dripped down in a river from the wound, streaking down the side of her face and staining her collar red. Behind her, there was a splatter of blood where the bullet had exited.

_I'm too late,_ L realized. _Someone's already killed her. Does that mean that the others are dead too? I'd better check before the task force comes rushing down here._

L backed up slowly, never taking his eyes off Takada's corpse as he left the room. He moved for the second cell next. This time, instead of kicking in the door, he tried the handle and found it functional. No one had relocked the cell. He immediately suspected that what he found inside wouldn't be good.

He was right.

When L opened the door, he saw three corpses on the ground. The first two were people he didn't recognize. But the third…

Soichiro Yagami.

The man was lying on his front, and L could tell immediately that he was dead. Blood had pooled around his body from a wound at his head, exactly like the one that had claimed Takada's life. The wall was splattered with blood in a similar way, and scarlet had traced a trail down his clothing. The great chief of the NPA had been reduced to a cooling shell of a human.

The detective turned his attention briefly on the two other men. They looked like members of the gang…so why were they dead? Who had killed them? Upon inspection, there were no physical wounds. They looked perfectly fine, just… _dead._ Like their hearts had suddenly—

He froze.

Like their hearts…had suddenly _stopped working._

Was it possible…?

"No!" L hissed, shaking his head. "No, no, no! Not possible! Stop jumping to conclusions, you idiot!" He shook his head hard, clearing the unpleasant thoughts. He just needed to see if Sachiko and Sayu were alive, take care of them if they were, and that would be it. He could leave this hellhole and go back to Light.

L retreated from the cell and moved to the third one. This one was locked. It took L only a moment to break it down like the first one. And inside, he found not a scene from a horror movie, but a living, breathing person.

This person was Sachiko Yagami. Light's mother. And she was still alive.

L's stomach dropped. As sick as it was, he'd been hoping that the gang members had already killed all of Light's family. If that had been the case, he could have just went back to England with a clear conscience and told the teen that his family had been murdered by the gang that had kidnapped them. But now…the choice truly was in his hands.

And he had already made it.

L walked into the cell slowly. Sachiko wasn't asleep, but she certainly wasn't awake. She was lying on her side, eyes closed tightly. She appeared to be unconscious, completely dead to the world. L had no clue what had knocked her out, but he was glad for it. He didn't know if he could do this if she begged him to stop. The detective closed the door quietly behind him and walked further into the cell. Sachiko…she was the living embodiment of Light. She looked so much like him—or rather, Light looked so much like her. L clenched his fingers around the hot, slightly sweaty handle of his gun. He was nervous. His entire body was shaking with the slightest of tremors as he raised the gun, still inching closer. He didn't want to miss, and he didn't trust his shaking hands. It didn't take long before he was hovering over Sachiko like an avenging angel.

No, that wasn't it. He was more like a grim reaper.

"I'm sorry," L whispered aloud, gaze pitying. "But this is for Light."

L released the safety and placed his finger lightly on the trigger.

_Am I really about to do this? Am I really about to kill my lover's family?_

Apparently he was.

His finger tightened on the trigger. Then it tightened further. And then, with his finger pressing on the trigger with almost enough pressure to set it off…

He fired.

The shot echoed with deadly precision around the tiny cell. The entire world stood still, as if in shock, as if in disbelief that L had done such a terrible thing. If in the distance, far, far away, a familiar voice was screaming out in horror, L couldn't hear it.

And then, slowly, the world came back to life.

L stared down as blood began to pool around Sachiko's head. She hadn't even twitched as he'd done it. Her eyes never fluttered open. She hadn't felt a thing. And now, she would never feel anything ever again. Her blood, spreading out around her like a branching halo, would set her free from the world that had mistreated her so terribly. She was free.

L leaned back, his gun falling to his side. Sachiko was dead.

Now, all that remained was Sayu.

The detective backed out of the cell as he had with the two others, turning to the fourth and final cell. He walked towards it numbly and kicked in the door without hesitation. His emotions were sealed, locked firmly behind a wall of steel. He would free Light from this nightmare.

As he walked into the cell, a terrible silence overtook him. And the voice that broke it…

"Hey there," a tiny voice said from the corner. "Rue."

L found himself staring directly at Sayu Yagami. The girl wasn't unconscious, nor was she dead. She was completely awake, and she was staring right at him with a pair of sad, weary eyes.

She didn't wait for him to respond. "I heard the gunshots."

The detective gave a slow nod, but couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Rue…" Sayu whispered. "Is my family…?"

L gave a pained nod.

Sayu's expression crumpled into bitter agony. "I understand," she rasped, and her voice was barley audible.

He took a step closer, fingers clenching around the handle of his gun. He had to end this.

Light's sister stared up at him as he inched closer. "You're here to kill me too, aren't you?" she whispered.

He nodded again.

Her gaze dropped to the ground beneath her. Her voice cracked. "Then…you're not really Rue, are you?"

L stared in confusion.

"I mean…" She began to explain, then choked slightly and had to stop. "I mean, you _can't_ be Rue. He was so sweet and kind, and, and…he would never…" She broke off again, eyes beginning to drip with tears. "He would never do this to Light."

L could no longer keep silent. "This is for Light. I'm doing this for him."

"He wouldn't want this!" she wailed. She was on the brink of sobbing, fingers dabbing the tears out of her eyes before they could fall. "He doesn't want this, Rue, or…whoever you are…"

The detective took another step forward. This would be the last murder. This was it.

Sayu pressed herself into the corner as L approached. "He warned me," she whispered in a choked tone. "He told me that Light had become involved with someone dangerous, and now…"

L brought the gun up, aiming the muzzle at Sayu's forehead.

The girl didn't attempt to escape. "Now…" she whispered.

The gun clicked as the safety was released.

"Now my brother…"

L's finger tensed on the trigger.

"Now he'll—!"

A gunshot echoed off the walls of the small room.

And Sayu, eyes wide and unseeing, slid to the ground, final words unspoken.

†††

Far away, someone was screaming.


	36. The Three of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this is one of my favorite chapters! I had all of the fun. All of it.
> 
> Enjoy!

All the breath left Light's lungs in a horrified wail as he watched his mother's body begin to spill its blood out across the cracking stone floor. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, couldn't understand why this was happening, couldn't _accept_ —

The doors burst open. Watari was standing in the doorway, was crying out in alarm as he saw the tears streaming from Light's eyes, but the teen couldn't hear him. The computer toppled from the bed and struck the ground harshly. Light didn't know or care if it had broken. All he knew was that the screen had faded to black, and he could no longer see the face of his lover, could no longer see the corpse of his mother. He could no longer see the horrific crime that had been committed right in front of him.

And those _words—_

_"I'm doing this for Light. This is for Light. All for him…"_

"You did this for _me?"_ Light screeched, shooting out of bed and falling to the ground, scraping his knees as they landed harshly on the glass of the broken mirror. "You slaughtered my family for _me,_ L? You love me so much that they needed to _die?"_

The teen's hands buried themselves in his hair and pulled, hoping to do something, _anything,_ to ease this terrible pain. But even that momentary pain wasn't enough to distract him, and so he slammed his palms down into the broken glass of the mirror and pushed with all his strength.

"I gave half my life to save them!" Light wailed, feeling blood running down his fingers and not caring. Who cared if he died? His family was dead because of him. "I gave my life, and you slaughtered them like animals! Was this your plan, you bastard? Was this what you wanted from the beginning?" He slammed his hands harder against the ground, barely feeling someone attempting to grab onto him and stop him. He guessed it was Watari.

"Please," Light choked, tears beginning to overwhelm him. "Please, L…why did you…?"

There was a large shard of glass on the floor right beside his right hand. His fingers curled around it, and he was tempted to bring it to his throat to end this nightmare L had forced him into. The shard cut into his fingertips, and he reveled in the thought of slicing through the flesh of his neck and letting his blood pour out over the ground, forming the same beautiful halo of scarlet that L had given to his mother. He would have done it, too, and was preparing to raise the glass to his throat, when he felt something closing around him. Arms…? What…?

He realized too late that someone was restraining him, prying the glass out of his hands. Watari again, most likely.

"No!" he screeched, writhing against the grip that held him so firmly. But he was weak from shock, weak from his collapse, weak from loss of blood, and it was too much. He couldn't struggle, he couldn't even hold himself up anymore. "No…" he rasped, the world blurring around him. "L, why…?"

Someone was shouting. Someone was yelling for help. And a few moments later, that help arrived. Light couldn't see them, couldn't see _anything_ except the beautiful scarlet halo atop his mother's head—but he could feel them. He could feel the vibrations in the floor as they came running, could feel a new set of hands on him, holding him down. There was more yelling, more confusion. Light had fallen silent, the only sounds escaping him consisting of tiny whines and desperate whimpers as someone jostled his wounds. His tears were creating ugly tracks on his cheeks, splotching the floor beneath him, and he didn't care. He couldn't feel anything but pain, and as he struggled weakly against two sets of hands, he felt the glass grinding further into his body. It hurt.

Two more voices arrived. There was the distant sound of someone scrabbling around in the medical equipment, then the sound of someone crying out in confusion and panic. A moment after that, Light felt someone grabbing his arm and pulling it out to his side. There were hands, one at his wrist and one at his elbow, holding him still. He vaguely understood, vaguely knew what was happening, and couldn't bring himself to struggle against it. It would be a merciful escape, to rest for as long as the drug would let him.

Something pricked at his arm, and there was a rush of fluid seeping into his bloodstream. After that, it didn't take long. The teen let out a tiny, broken wail as his world began to fade around him.

In a matter of minutes, he was out.

†††

The deed was done. Light's family was dead.

L turned away from Sayu's cooling body and began to walk back towards the tunnel that led to the hallway where the task force was waiting. He'd painted the room red. A splash of the stuff had even gotten onto his shoes. Luckily, the dark material hid the scarlet quite well.

The detective pushed his way up through the hatch and back into the apartment room from which he'd descended. He took a moment to make sure there were no enemies in the room. Then he hauled himself up and closed the hatch behind him, slinking his way up to the hallway. He glanced out, and—

Oh, what a shame…

L sighed sadly as he laid eyes upon the body of Mogi. The man was lying on his stomach in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling from bullet holes in his chest. A single look was all it took to tell that he was dead. There was far too much blood on the floor around him to leave even a small chance of survival.

The detective left him there. There wasn't much he could do about it now. Feeling but a twinge of sadness, he moved on. He hadn't made it more than five feet in the right direction before coming across another body. This one was torn and mutilated beyond recognition, bullet holes riddling his flesh in ridiculous quantities. Even though his face was covered and red and nearly beyond recognition, L knew that it was Aizawa. Once again, there was no need to check for signs of survival. It was obvious that he was dead. And so yet another of the task force had fallen. If Matsuda was dead, then no one would be left alive except for L himself.

L moved back to the room right outside the hallway. He couldn't see any remaining enemies. He took that to mean that they'd retreated before they were all gunned down. Turning his head to peer around the room, L swiftly found what he was looking for. Matsuda was right where he'd been left, lying on his stomach with makeshift bandages stretched around his torso. L approached the downed man slowly and gazed down at him. It took a moment, but the detective managed to detect slight movement in Matsuda's chest. He was still breathing.

"Well, that's unfortunate," L sighed. He pointed his gun at the sole surviving member of the task force, a deep frown on his face. "You're the only person left who's seen my face, the only person left who knows my connection to Light. Once you're gone, there will be no one left outside of Wammy's House that knows anything about me." He released the safety. "It's nothing personal," he assured him. "And for what's it's worth…" His finger pressed on the trigger. A gunshot echoed.

"…I'm sorry."

He wasn't.

†††

Less than twenty-four hours later, L was done in Japan. He sent a brief message to the NPA explaining what had happened. Or at least, explaining _his_ version of what had happened.

According to him, it all began when he'd charged into the building with the task force and his personal team of officers. He'd fought valiantly, battling alongside the other officers to save the Yagami family as well as Takada. Unfortunately, as they'd traversed the halls and rooms of the abandoned apartment complex, more and more of their men had fallen. Eventually, L was the only one left. He alone had managed to fend off the remaining few enemies and find the hostages. But by the time he'd found them, the gang members had already killed them. Light's family and Takada were already dead. After that, he'd fled the building and declared the mission a failure.

Thanks to L's reputation and stellar lying, the NPA bought his story hook, line, and sinker. No one doubted him for a second. And now that it was all over, it was time to go back to Japan. Unfortunately, the hardest part was yet to come. He had to tell Light what had happened to his family, and he had to make the lie believable. The teen could never know that he was the one that had killed them. It wouldn't be easy. He'd have to be there for Light every step of the way for as long as he mourned, making sure that he never slipped into darkness.

_Don't worry,_ L thought, an image of Light drifting through his mind. _No one will ever hurt you again._

†††

"This is bad," Near whispered. "Beyond is _not_ going to be pleased."

"No kidding," Mello grumbled. Beside him, Matt simply shook his head in stunned silence. His handheld gaming device was nowhere in sight.

The three successors were standing outside one of the many detainment cells contained within Wammy's House, discussing the events that had taken place a few hours previous. In other words, the event in which Light had lost his mind for seemingly no reason and nearly attempted to kill himself. There had been absolutely no warning. One minute everything was fine, and the next Watari was forced to dash into the room to stop Light from slitting his throat with a shard of glass. Luckily, the successors hadn't been far away when it happened. They'd heard the commotion and came to help, assisting Watari in rendering the teen unconscious. After that, they'd been swift in treating the wounds Light had acquired from grinding his hands and knees into the glass. It had taken a good chunk of time to remove all the glass and bandage the various cuts and slices, but they'd managed it eventually. After that, they'd bound Light from head to toe and thrown him into one of the school's detention cells. That was where he was now, still completely unconscious.

Mello sighed, peering into the detention cell. Light was lying on his side against the padded ground, showing no signs of moving. "Beyond's gonna be pissed. We promised we'd keep Light safe, and look what happened to him." He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "He had a panic attack, then nearly tried to kill himself a few days later. What the hell made him go off like that?"

Near shook his head. "I'm not sure. He seemed completely fine the last time I saw him, and now..."

Matt looked away with a guilty flinch. "I think I may have an idea."

Near and Mello glanced over with curiosity. "Speak up," Mello ordered harshly.

The teen gnawed at his bottom lip. "Near, do you remember me calling you last night? I asked you if it was okay for me to hack into the security cameras around that old apartment complex so that Light could keep an eye on the rescue attempt. You said yes, that it shouldn't cause any issues, so I did just that. From what I understand, Light was watching live footage of rescue attempt when he lost it. If you want my opinion—"

Mello caught on immediately. "You think that something happened during the rescue, and that Light saw it and completely flipped out."

Near gave a slow nod, saying, "That sounds plausible. But what could have happened? Did someone die?"

"No clue." Matt shrugged. "It's over now, and it's not like the footage was being recorded anywhere so that we could watch it. Not even I could do get it back now."

"That's unfortunate," Near murmured. "I wonder if Beyond knows anything? We could try calling him."

"I'd say that's our best bet," was Mello's response. "Do we want to call him now, or…?"

Near shook his head. "No. He should be on his way back from Japan by now. We can speak with him in person when he arrives."

"But what if this is something really serious?" Mello questioned. "What if it's something we need to deal with immediately? We might not be able to wait."

Near shook his head determinedly. "We're going to wait. It'll just take a day or two for Beyond to get back. In that time, let's keep a close eye on Light. Beyond will be mad enough already without us letting anything else happen to him."

"Yeah…" Mello glanced at Light once again. "I suppose we have no chance but to wait."

†††

Light awoke slowly, his entire body feeling as if he'd been crushed by a terrible weight. Everything, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, resonated with a deep, aching pain. And to make everything worse, when he attempted to move, he found that he'd been securely bound. He couldn't move an inch.

The teen forced his eyes to open a crack, wincing as bright light flooded his senses. After a few moments of adjustment, he was able to open his eyes just enough to take in his surroundings. It appeared to be a small room, completely devoid of furniture and entirely white. He was lying in the center of the room, side pressed to the ground. He almost laughed when he felt how cushy and soft the ground was beneath him, realizing immediately just where they'd locked him.

A padded cell. Like some kind of psychopath.

And then he did laugh, if only softly, his voice cracking as he attempted to use it. Because even if it had seemed ridiculous at first, he knew why they'd locked him up in this state. He'd gone insane. He'd lost his cool when he saw the horrifying events that had taken place in that abandoned apartment complex, throwing his computer off the bed, grinding his hands and knees into the shattered glass from the mirror, screaming at someone who was thousands of miles away. To an onlooker, it must have appeared that he was truly losing his mind.

Thus the padded cell, and…

The teen tugged lightly at his bonds, glancing down.

…And a straight jacket. How quaint.

They must really have been convinced that he was losing it.

Light stopped struggling. He was no fool, he knew that he wouldn't be able to escape from the cell unless someone let him out. And so he simply laid there against the padded floor of the cell, pressing his cheek into the white material and closing his eyes once again.

It was a mistake. The instant the teen closed his eyes, he was seeing the whole horrific scene over again. He saw those two criminals gun down Takada and his father, laughing mercilessly as they prepared to murder his mother and sister as well. He saw himself, shooting up to his knees and begging Ryuk to give him the shinigami eyes. He saw those two accursed names being etched into the Death Note, far too late to save Soichiro from his tragic fate. He saw the two criminals crashing to the ground, their hearts suddenly ceasing to function. He saw L approaching, saw his own shoulders slumping with relief as the detective moved to the cells that held his mother and his sister, presumably to rescue them. He saw L kicking down the doors and facing down Sachiko's unconscious form, gun raised, finger on the trigger. He saw the gun fire, tiny rivers of scarlet branching out from the bullet wound in Sachiko's head. And after that, he saw nothing, as his computer toppled from the bed and his world was suddenly bathed in darkness. He'd been knocked out. He hadn't seen what L had done next.

He hadn't seen what had happened to Sayu.

He wanted desperately to believe that his little sister, the one he cared for so dearly, was still alive. He wanted to believe that L hadn't burst into that final cell and put a bullet through his sister's head. But then again, he also didn't want to believe that L had killed his mother. But he'd seen it. He'd seen it, he'd seen it all—and it was killing him.

_It has to be a mistake,_ he thought over and over again, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the outside world. He didn't want to see anything, feel anything, _be_ anything. He didn't want to live in a world in which his lover held a gun on his family and didn't hesitate for a moment in using it. _L didn't do this. There's no way it's true._

He shook his head back and forth desperately. He would do anything to forget. He didn't want to remember seeing L's name above his head before being pulled away from the computer and sedated. He didn't want to remember that no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he'd see it all happen right in front of him. L had killed the remaining members of his family, the ones he'd given half his life to save, for _him._

_This is for Light. I'm doing this for him._

How could he believe that? How could L believe that in killing his lover's family he would achieve a favorable outcome? How did L expect to explain his actions? Unless…

Was he planning to lie?

Light felt his heart nearly stop in his chest at the thought of L telling him such a terrible lie. But he wasn't able to dwell on the thought for long, for that agonizing ache had started up in his chest again, and was pulsing out to the tips of his fingers. It wasn't a physical ache, caused by something tangible. Rather, it was an ache that resonated from the heart, originating from the scarlet memory of his deceased family. He fought to keep that ache down, knowing that it would only damage him further. But he was unable to stop himself from feeling the pain that tormented him. His confusion, his pain, his conflict…it all culminated in this singular throbbing ache that seemed to have consumed his entire being.

_L,_ he thought silently, tears beginning to drip silently from his closed eyes. _Please come back for me…I need to know why you really did this. How could you kill them after I fought so hard for their lives? How could you do something so terrible? And…will you try to lie about it? I just need to know, L. I just need to know why._

And until that happened, there was nothing he could do but lie in wait, struggling against the monumental pain that never seemed to leave him in peace.

†††

"Finally," L murmured, flopping down into his seat on the private jet that would take him back to England. "It's about time I went back."

It had been two days since he'd finished up his mission in Japan, but he'd been unable to leave. He wasn't entirely sure what had held his plane up, but it had been mysteriously absent for far too long. Thankfully, it had finally arrived, and now he could be on his way back to England. Back to Light.

He couldn't wait to see the teen again. Even though only five days had passed since he'd left for Japan, it felt like forever. He hadn't called Light since that fateful conversation directly before the mission began. It wasn't that he hadn't had time—over his two days of waiting, he'd had plenty of time. It was more that he wasn't quite sure what to say to him yet. He'd freed Light by killing his family, but how would he explain what had happened? He'd already decided to lie, and he already knew his story, but…how would be break the news gently? He didn't particularly care about the teen's family, or that wretched witch Takada, but he knew that Light did. He would be distraught. It wouldn't be good for his heart. But still, it had to be done. When L arrived in Japan, he would have to tell him right away. He knew that funeral preparations would have to be made, and that he'd have to deal with all of the legal nonsense that surrounded the death of an entire family.

But that was something that he could deal with later. For now, something much more pressing was eating away at his mind.

Specifically, he was troubled by the two criminals he'd found dead in Soichiro's cell. They'd shown no signs of any external damage. L had found it rather suspicious at the time, for they looked just a little too much like a pair of Kira victims. For that reason, when the NPA had come in to clean up the mess, L had asked them to have the two bodies examined for cause of death. The results had been troubling, to say the least.

Heart attacks. Both of them.

It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? But if it wasn't, then it had either been Light or the person who had stolen his notebook. And of course, the thief wasn't the best candidate. So, then, Light was the only plausible culprit—which meant that the teen would have needed to _somehow_ get those criminals' names. It was very unlikely that he'd managed to locate them with his computer, or through other ordinary means, seeing as L himself hadn't managed to do such a thing. And if that was true…

Had Light taken the shinigami eyes?

But no, he couldn't have! The teen had promised that he wouldn't take the eyes, no matter what happened. There was no way he'd broken his promise. And if he had…

L ground his teeth together without thinking, wincing a moment later from the dull pain that shot through his jaw. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Light had taken the eyes. To break a promise such as that was a terrible crime, the likes of which L had never committed himself. If Light had dared to break his promise, there would be hell to pay.

Just a few hours more, and he'd know exactly what had happened.

†††

L arrived in England several hours after that, taking a car all the way to his quarters without bothering to stop and tell anyone that he'd arrived. He would take care of that after he spoke with Light. Right now, the teen was his first and only priority.

The detective made his way into the house, calling out, "Light, I'm back!"

There was no response.

L felt an immediate surge of unease. A frown etched deep into his features, he picked his way through the front hall and poked his head into the kitchen, then the dining room, then the living room. Light was nowhere to be found. In fact, all the lights were off, and everything was exactly as he'd left it. That was strange…was Light not back from the infirmary yet? His collapse hadn't been so serious as to keep him there for days, had it? Had he misjudged the situation? Surely not.

When L moved upstairs, his belief that something was wrong only intensified. The bed he shared with Light hadn't been slept in. The covers were perfect, and it was obvious that the bed hadn't been used since before L's departure. In addition, all of Light's things in the bathroom hadn't been touched—and when L touched a finger lightly to the top of the counter, a very thin layer of dust clung to his finger. There was no denying it—Light wasn't here. And he _hadn't_ been here, not for days. So, then, he had to be in the infirmary.

He'd just have to go see him there. L was swift to leave the house, making sure it was locked behind him. Then he hopped back into the car and drove himself to the infirmary. He shuddered as he walked in the front doors. He didn't have good memories of this place. This was where they'd taken A after he'd…well…

L shook his head violently, ridding it of such negative thoughts. He was almost to the main room where he'd left Light. And with a few more steps, he was peering into the room. "Light?" he called in a hesitant tone, stepping inside. But once again, he was greeted with nothing but empty white walls. The teen wasn't here either. _Just what the hell happened to him? Where is he?_

"L?"

A soft voice sounded behind him, bringing him out of his thoughts. The detective turned to face the voice, and was surprised to see Near standing in the doorway. "Near," he greeted in a cool tone. "I don't suppose you've seen Light around? He was here before I left, and he didn't text me to tell me that he was leaving."

Near looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I know where he is, yes."

"Oh, good." L's shoulders slumped slightly in relief. At least the teen hadn't run off. That would have been quite bad. "Will you tell me where he is?"

Another awkward glance. "L, there's something you should know. I was going to call you earlier, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person."

"What is it?" L asked impatiently. "I haven't seen Light for days, so I'd like to get to him quickly. Hurry up."

Anxiety turned to anger, though it was swiftly concealed with a mask of apathy. Near had always been good at hiding his emotions. The white-haired teen opened his mouth, and the next moment words were falling from his lips and striking the ground like lead weights.

The instant those words reached his ears, L's blood ran cold.

The white-haired teen looked away. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this."

L didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Near's words simply echoed around in his mind, leaving tiny scores wherever they touched.

_While you were gone, Light had another incident. We have no idea what caused it, but he shattered a mirror, threw his computer off his hospital bed, and fell to the ground, screaming the entire time. He cut himself badly on the glass and even held a shard of it to his throat as if contemplating suicide. We had no choice but to sedate him and lock him in one of our padded cells. That's where he is now._

"What caused it?" L breathed, though Near had already told him that he didn't know the answer.

"We have no idea what caused it. Matt says that he was watching something on his computer when it happened, but because it broke when it fell off of the bed, we haven't been able to confirm what it was with certainty. We do, however, suspect that he was watching the security foota—"

L didn't let him finish. Instead, he turned and dashed from the room. He knew where the detention center was located, and he was going to waste no time in getting there. He would get to Light, he would learn what these monsters had done to make him lose his head like that. Whoever had hurt Light was going to pay with their life.

"L, wait!" Near called, rushing after him. "You need to know—"

The detective refused to listen, tearing through the halls until he reached the entrance to the area where the detention cells were held. The instant he entered the detention area, he knew immediately where Light was. Only one door was closed—and outside that door, Mello and Matt were lingering about nervously. Light had to be there.

"Get out of my way," L snarled, brushing past his two successors and punching in the code that would open the door.

"Hey, wait a second!" Mello yelped, looking surprised. "You can't just barge in there!"

Once again, L refused to listen. He shoved his way through the door and closed it behind him. Once inside, he took a moment to simply press his forehead to the door, calming his nerves. He couldn't face this conversation when he felt so rattled. Then, once he felt confident he wasn't about to lose it, he turned to face his lover.

L stopped in his tracks when he finally saw him. Light didn't appear to have heard him come in. The teen was curled into a ball on one side, knees drawn to his chest. The detective couldn't see his face, but he was confident that those amber eyes he loved so much were squeezed tightly closed. He obviously wasn't sleeping or unconscious, not if his heaving chest had anything to say about it. He was awake—but was he coherent?

"Light?" L whispered, stepping forward on light toes. "Can you hear me? I need you to tell me what happened here."

There was no response from the teen. The ragged pace of his breathing stayed consistently inconsistent, and other than that, his body was completely still.

L moved closer until he was hovering over his lover. "It's okay," he comforted the shaking teen. "I'm here. Everything is going to work out." He dropped to his knees behind Light, reaching out a gentle hand and placing it on the teen's side.

The only response he received was a light tremor that he felt rather than saw.

"I know you're awake," L said in a soft tone. "Come on, Light, just…talk to me. I need to know what happened."

Still, there was no response.

L sighed. It looked like this was going to be harder than he'd thought.

†††

Light was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard a commotion outside the door. He could barely bring himself to care, though, not even when he heard the door being wrenched open and then slammed shut a moment later. Someone had entered the cell, he thought, but he wasn't sure. A few people had come in and out over the few days he'd been trapped there, to feed him, to help him out of his jacket so he could stretch his muscles, to try to persuade him to speak. It never worked. Light had buried himself in the depths of his own mind, and the only person that could draw him out was hundreds of miles away in Japan. Or at least, that's what he thought.

"Light?" a soft voice whispered.

Funny…it sounded so familiar.

"Are you okay? I need you to tell me what happened here."

Light curled tighter into a ball and made sure his eyes were squeezed shut. That was the one thing he'd made sure of, no matter what was happening and who was in the room. His eyes were always closed. If he dared to open them, someone might notice the change in color that he was sure had occurred. He hadn't seen them himself, but he was sure they were hideous. They would look like Beyond's eyes, and the thought made him sick.

"It's okay," that voice was whispering. "I'm here. Everything is going to work out."

The teen shook his head slightly, and his breathing began to speed up. He was beginning to put the pieces together. The more the person spoke, the more that voice resonated within his mind, and the more he suspected he knew who it belonged to.

A soft hand pressed against his side, and Light was no longer uncertain. He knew that touch far too well.

"I know you're awake," his lover whispered above him. "Come on, Light…just talk to me. I need to know what happened."

What happened? He could have laughed. Could have, but didn't, for all emotion had drained right out of him at the first sound of L's voice. _You killed my family._ He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, knowing that to open them would be to reveal to L that he had broken his promise. _Why do I even care?_ he lamented. _I broke_ his _promise, he slaughtered my family. We're even._ And this time he did laugh, startling himself with the sound of his own voice. The laugh held no emotion, though, sounding flat and lifeless.

"Light?" L's voice was trembling slightly.

_He's worried about me. He doesn't know that I watched him kill my family. L…tell me, what happened to Sayu? To the task force? Did you kill them as well?_

"Light please!" L pleaded, another hand brushing across his side to join the first. "Who did this?"

_You. You did this._ The teen swallowed hard, and for the first time in days, he knew that he had to respond. He had to ask all of the questions that refused to leave him alone. The ones that tormented him whenever he tried to sleep. "L," he whispered, the name both an answer and a question.

L's voice immediately spiked with relief. "Light, thank goodness. Are you okay?"

Light hummed softly, the sound neutral and undecided. He wouldn't know if he was okay until L told him what had happened.

"What happened?" L repeated, sounding a bit like a broken record. "Was it Near? Mello? Someone else?"

_You. You. You._ "I know," he whispered flatly.

The hands caressing his sides froze. "You know?"

"I heard," Light responded in a hushed tone, turning his head further away as he felt two cool fingers attempting to turn his face away from the ground. "I heard them talking. My family is dead."

L's hands began brushing gently across his shoulders, drifting over his back and soothing him with short, soft strokes. "I'm sorry," the detective comforted. "I came here right away to tell you in person."

Light pushed onwards, refusing to open his heart to the pain building up within him. He would finish this. He would not break. "What happened to them?" he asked, knowing that L's answer would cement his fate. "Promise you won't lie."

L seemed surprised. "I don't think you should know that yet. You're still weak, and it would be best if—"

" _Please._ I need to know this."

There was a heavy moment of silence. Then a soft sigh sounded right over his shoulder, and L responded, "Very well. I'll tell you everything."

_Will you?_

"The task force and I stormed the building with a squad of my personal officers. We subdued our enemies and managed to make our way to the lower levels, where they were keeping your family hostage. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, we'd lost all of my men, and Matsuda had been gunned down. I separated from the rest of the group in order to search for your family and bring them home at all costs. But by the time I found them, two criminals had already slaughtered them all. I killed the criminals and went back to the task force, only to find them dead as well. I was the only one that escaped."

Light felt as if his heart had suddenly ceased to function. Sayu…his sister…she was dead as well. "Do you promise that that is the truth?" he forced himself to ask, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "Swear to me that it's the truth. And let me see your hands."

He refused to open his eyes, so he could only guess that L had obeyed. "I promise you that it is the truth."

_Then we've both broken promises to each other, haven't we, L? Perhaps I'm not as evil as I thought I was._ Light curled in on himself tighter. His sister was dead. One of the only people he'd ever loved had been slaughtered for _him._ L had done this for _him._ "Thank you," he choked out, though he felt as if the last scrap of hope had just been crushed beneath the boot of L's treacherous words. "For telling the truth."

L's hands became more insistent, tugging at him in an attempt to turn him onto his back. "Light, let's leave this place. We can talk more once we get back to the house. Is that okay?"

"The house…"

L sounded concerned as he replied, "Yes, our house. You…you're okay to go back, aren't you?"

Light paused. He should feel something, he realized. He should feel anger, grief, desperation, to learn that his lover was lying so blatantly to him. But instead, all he felt was a terrible pit of emptiness within him. There was nothing left. L had taken everything he had.

"Light?"

He realized that he'd been silent for far too long. "Yes," he whispered, hoping he didn't sound as emotionless as he felt. "Let's go home, L."

"Good. Then let's get going." L tugged at him again, then frowned when he didn't move. "Come on, Light."

The teen was slow to obey. He moved at an agonizingly halting pace as he peeled himself off the ground, his chest panging with sorrow as if his grief, newly discovered and throbbing within his chest, was manifesting itself into a physical affliction. He allowed L to pull him to his feet. But even then, he would not open his eyes. He would not let L see. Even if the detective had done such terrible things, even if he'd taken everything from him…he didn't want him to know that he'd broken his promise as well.

He felt L unbuckling the straight jacket, and a moment later he was free to move his hands. "There," L soothed, arms pulling Light in for a brief, comforting hug. "Let's go home."

"Yes," Light whispered. "Home." _The home of my family's murderer._

L hooked his arm through his, leading him from the cell. Light's eyes remained closed as he let L guide him. No one could see.

"L?" a familiar voice questioned once they were out of the cell. "What are you—?"

"I'm taking him home," L said coldly. "Do you have a problem with that, Near?"

Near paused, and when he spoke, Light could hear the halting hesitation in his voice. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. We still don't know what the cause was, and—"

"He learned something terrible," L replied shortly. "It upset him. That's all."

"But the words he was yelling—"

"I'm taking him _home,"_ L snapped. "Leave us be, Near. That's an order."

There was another pause. Then, "Very well."

Light felt L's chest rumble with a low growl of irritation. The next moment the detective was pulling him along, then scooping him up into his arms when he figured out that Light wasn't up to moving swiftly. "Just relax," the detective urged. "We'll get you home and then you can rest."

Light nodded mindlessly. "Rest…"

L nodded. "Yes, Light. Rest."

†††

Hours later, Light awoke from a fitful sleep. After their conversation in the cell, the detective had returned him to their home and placed him on the bed, positioning his arms and legs until he was pleased with his appearance. He felt like a doll, being played with and manipulated by his master.

_Is that all I am to you?_ Light thought numbly, not moving from his place on the bed. _A toy? A plaything? Something to discard once you become bored?_ A lump formed in his throat as the image of his beautiful, innocent sister flashed before his closed eyes. _She's dead because of you. Because of me. Because of_ us _. Now…_

He heard the sound of a door opening and closing, then a series of soft thuds as L drew close to the bed. "Light," he whispered. "You're awake?"

The teen gave a dull nod, not allowing himself to speak.

"Good." A weight settled on the bed beside him, and a hand brushed lightly across his forehead. The hair was lifted from his face. "Light…your eyes."

He tensed. "What about them?"

There was an anxious pause. "You haven't opened your eyes. Is something wrong with them?"

Light caught what no one else could have. Behind L's caring façade, there was the light undertone of suspicion. The detective already suspected what had happened. He shouldn't have been surprised, he knew. L was a genius, it was only natural that he would figure these things out swiftly. "They hurt," was the feeble excuse. Then he squeezed his eyes shut until they _did_ hurt.

"You should let me see them," L whispered down at him, voice growing increasingly tense. "Maybe I can help you take care of them."

_But if I open my eyes…_

"Light." Lips pressed to his cheek lovingly, and Light nearly lost it. How could someone who had just slaughtered everyone he cared about be so caring? What was the truth? "Please show me."

The teen shook his head, and two hands cupped the sides of his face and kept him from turning away. "L, please," he whimpered. "They hurt. Just let me rest." They did hurt, but not for the reasons L thought they did.

The hands cupping his face became firmer, more insistent. "I need to see. I need to know that you didn't—"

"—Break my promise?" Light finished in a hushed tone. "You think I took the eyes, right? Is that it?"

L's fingertips let up on the pressure just slightly. "You didn't?"

For just a moment, Light found himself unable to speak. Then, "Did _you_ break _your_ promise?"

L's fingers removed themselves from his face. "No. So you didn't take the eyes?"

He bit back a bitter laugh. "Tell me the truth."

"What?" He sounded puzzled. "I _am_ telling the truth, Light."

"Except you're not." There was no anger in his tone, only bitter sadness.

"What are you talking about?"

"You wanted to know if I took the eyes?" Light asked, avoiding the question.

"Well of course I—"

"Well, why don't you look for yourself?"

L paused. "What…?"

"Look into my eyes, L. What do you see?"

Again, there was a pause. Then Light felt the weight on the bed shift, and he knew that L was crawling towards him. There was a light rustling noise, then he felt L straddling him. Two more soft thumps let him know that he was being caged in by L's arms on either side of his head. A shadow across his closed eyes told him that L was leaning over him.

"Ready?" Light teased quietly, a tiny spark of humor finding its way into his voice. "I'm going to open my eyes."

L remained silent.

"No response? Well, then…I suppose it's up to me."

Light relaxed the muscles in his face. It felt good, he realized, to let the worry lines decrease in intensity and to allow his expression to lessen in severity. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have an expression of neutrality, without stress and worry afflicting his features. But that wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be telling L the truth. And so slowly, with all the hesitation in the world…

Light opened his eyes.

He saw L for the first time in days. The detective was hovering over him, a nervous expression on his face as he stared down. And Light, directly beneath him, had the privilege of watching that expression twist into one of horror and disbelief.

"Light…" L choked, though he didn't draw back.

He could only guess what L was seeing. Two reddish orange eyes staring up at him from the face of his lover. It had to be unnerving, to say the least. He could have laughed. "What is it, L?" he responded softly. "See something you like?"

L's hand reached up, slowly, as if in a dream, and tilted the teen's face to one side. Fierce black eyes stared into his, and Light felt as if he was being mercilessly scrutinized. "Light," the detective breathed again. "You didn't…"

"It was the only way," Light whispered back. He blinked slowly, scarlet orbs momentarily shielded from view, only to reappear again a moment later. "It was the only way to save my family."

"But they were dead when I got there," L insisted. "This…this could never have worked. Why did you do it?"

Light smiled emotionlessly. "You should have listened to Near when he tried to tell you what I was watching when I had my fit."

A flicker of horror pierced L's dark eyes.

"You see…I was worried about you." Light moved on his own for the first time in days, reaching up and cupping L's cheek with one hand. "I wanted to make sure you didn't die, and that my family would be safe. I had Matt get me into the security feed in the old apartment complex. I wanted to watch the rescue mission."

L's skin was three shades paler than usual. "Light…what did you see?" Then he said it again, desperately. _"What did you see?"_

His smile grew, stretching across his face even as tears began to burn his eyes. "I saw the mission, L. I saw everything. There were two men, and…and they killed Takada and my mother. I had to do something. I had to save my family." He let his hand fall away from L's face, moving to his own eyes and touching gently around one of them as if to check that they were still there. "I took the eyes and killed the criminals. I saved my sister and my mother. And yet…"

L's eyes grew wide with realization.

"And yet they were still killed in the end."

The detective jerked back as if he'd been burned. "Light, I—"

"Do you want to know who I saw kill them?" Light asked, his tone lifeless and detached as he slowly sat up. "I don't know if I would have recognized him without the eyes. But I _did_ have the eyes, and so I saw his name floating above his head. Who was it again?" His numbness was fading. It was fading, and in its place was a smoldering ember that was only gaining strength with every passing moment. "Oh, that's right, L! It was _you."_

There was a long pause, in which L's expression remained one of piercing shock. But then that shock faded, and the detective's features twisted angrily. "You took the eyes to save your family, even after you promised you wouldn't?" he hissed, springing from the bed and looming over his lover. "You broke your promise, Light, and you didn't accomplish anything by it! I _warned_ you, but you didn't listen!"

"What?" Light gasped, disbelief breaking through his lifeless shell. Anger followed moments after. "You're mad at _me_ for breaking _my_ promise after _you_ slaughtered my mother and sister? Are you insane?"

L bared his teeth in a vicious snarl. " _You're_ the insane one if you think what you did was okay! You made me a promise, Light, and you broke it without a second thought to save your family!"

"They're my _family!"_ Light snarled furiously. "Of course I gave half my life to save them! I loved them, L, and you slaughtered them like animals! _You're_ the one that should be bowing before _me_ , begging for forgiveness! How _dare_ you pretend to be upset about my promise when you've broken yours as well? What was it you said to me? That you would do anything you could to save my family? Well, look how that turned out!" The anger was growing. It was swelling within him, and the only place left to go was _out._ All of his days spent staring into darkness with a numb heart had come to an end, and now he was feeling a violent surge of emotion to make up for all that he had lost.

"You should never have taken the eyes!" L spat. "You—"

"I gave _everything_ to you!" Light cried, silencing his lover. "L, you had my heart, my life, my _soul!_ And when my family disappeared, I thought that you would be able to save them! But now…what have you _done?_ "

"I liberated you," L growled, his tone dipping dangerously. "If I'd rescued them, then you would only have worried about them for the rest of your life, until the stress forced you to collapse _again!_ There would always have been people trying to get at them because of your connection to me, and you would never have been able to rest easy knowing that they were in danger!"

"That's what family _is,"_ Light insisted, distraught. "We worry over each other, stress over each other without fail! And when the time comes, we're there for each other until the end! I would gladly have worried for my family if it meant they were kept alive! They were innocent!"

"They were hurting you!"

" _No!_ They were _helping_ me! There have been so many times, L, so many times that I thought I would go insane during this damn case! And whenever I thought I was about to lose it, who do you think helped get me back on my feet? My sister! My mother! My _family!_ And you've taken all of that from me! Just who the hell did you think you were helping other than yourself?"

"This was for _you!_ I was helping _you!"_

"No you weren't!" Light roared, shooting out of bed and clenching his fists firmly at his sides. Blood dripped from his palms as nails cut into flesh, and he didn't care one bit. "You did this because you couldn't stand the thought of me having connections in Japan! You did this because you wanted me alone, isolated, with no one to turn to but you!" He shook his head violently. "You're such an idiot. How could you do this to me and then _lie_ about it? How could you do this at _all?"_

L's eyes were hard with anger. "You're no better! You broke your promise as well, don't forget! Don't you dare try to act like I'm the only one at fault here!"

Light stared in disbelief. "I halved my lifespan. You slaughtered my entire family. Doesn't one of those seem a bit more severe than the other?"

"Not to me it doesn't!" L took a bold step forward, and Light moved backwards instinctively in response. "You shortened your lifespan after promising me you wouldn't! That makes you just as guilty as me!"

"You're insane," Light realized, fury bubbling in his throat and churning in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched impossibly tighter at his sides. "Why the hell couldn't I see it earlier? Beyond was right, you're nothing more than a murderer posing as a hero!"

"Beyond?" L echoed furiously. "When the hell did you speak to that bastard? Did you go to him behind my back?"

"He warned me about you," Light snarled. "He told me to run, but I didn't believe him." He looked away, gaze bitter. "I see now that I should have listened to him. If I'd gotten out while I could, my family would be alive and I wouldn't have given half my life for a pair of useless eyes!"

L leaned over him menacingly. "That's your fault! You're the one that broke your promise!"

"You killed my family!"

"You halved your lifespan!"

"You…" Light trailed off, angry tears burning away at the backs of his eyes. "You took _everything_ from me! This is all your fault! I wish I'd listened to Beyond when I had the chance and left you behind! I hate you, you _monster!"_

L's eyes dilated, and his hands shot up at record speed.

The next few moments were a blur.

Before Light knew what was happening, his back was being slammed forcefully into a wall, and there was a constricting hand at his throat. Another was fisting in his hair, yanking his head back against the wall when he attempted to lean forwards and escape.

"L!" Light choked, breath stalling in his lungs. "L, I can't—!"

The hand tightened, and Light could do nothing but choke helplessly on air that refused to fill his lungs. L leaned in close, eyes flashing dangerously. "Monster?" he echoed, ignoring the teen's frantic scrabbling at the hand at his throat. "You think I'm a monster for setting you free?" He laughed, and all traces of the L that Light knew were gone. In his place was a true monster.

Light grasped weakly at the hand holding him aloft, clawing at it and attempting to free himself. But L was too strong. He'd always been stronger than him—and now it could be about to cost him his life.

The detective laughed again, grip tightening. Light's head was starting to feel fuzzy. "If you love your family so much more than me, then why don't you join them?" he spat. "I'm sure they'd _love_ to hear from you again, _traitor!"_

This was bad. He couldn't breathe, and his body was beginning to shut down. He couldn't even call for help, couldn't beg the real L to return and let him go. Beyond's warnings echoed in his mind.

_That temper of L's is going to get you killed someday._

Was it true? Was this it for him? It certainly felt final. His vision was fading. His hearing was beginning to fail. His senses were going haywire.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way," L growled, bringing his face close to Light's ear. "If only you'd listened to me. If only you hadn't broken your promise. We could have been together forever."

No…it couldn't end like this! With whatever he had left…with whatever air was left in his lungs…he had to _fight!_ The teen gathered the last of his strength, which was swiftly fading away. He didn't have much, but it would have to be enough. He had to break free _now._

"Goodbye, Light," L whispered.

And at that moment, Light did the only thing he could. He drew his leg back with all the strength he had, and kicked L solidly in the one place he knew it would hurt the most.

The reaction was immediate. The hand around his throat slid away, the fingers curled in his hair untangled, and L fell to the ground wailing in pain. Light wasn't far behind. The teen collapsed into a fit of choking coughs, breath struggling to flood into his damaged windpipe. He scrabbled desperately for purchase on the carpet, knowing that he didn't have much time. He had to run if he valued his life. L had lost all control, and his anger had swallowed him whole. He wasn't himself.

Or maybe he was, and this was the person he'd been all along.

Light heard L struggling to his feet, and he knew that his time had run out. The teen fought against the violent coughs wracking his body, clawing his way to his knees and grabbing the closest thing as a weapon—the desk lamp on the nightstand. He struggled to pull off the lampshade, then drug his weakened body back over to L. He didn't know if he had the strength, but he had to try. He had to escape if he wanted to live. And so with everything he had, just as L was raising his head, he drew back the wooden stand of the lamp and drove it down on the back of L's head.

"L-Light!" L choked out, but it was too late. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body collapsed limply to the ground. He was unconscious.

Light slumped to the ground in relief. _Thank god…I thought he was going to kill me!_ And deep down, he knew that L really _would_ have killed him if it weren't for his quick thinking. The man had been so consumed by anger that he hadn't been thinking clearly. _Is this what happened to A?_ he wondered, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought. Or maybe he was feeling sick to his stomach because of the lack of oxygen. He was still coughing, his body struggling to repair the damage to his throat.

_I need to run,_ Light remembered, fighting his way to his feet and nearly falling down again. _I need to get out of here before he wakes up. I don't care where, so long as I get as far away as possible._ Unfortunately, as he wobbled for the stairs, he didn't think that _as far as he could_ would be very far. He was too weak, and he could feel darkness pressing in on the edges of his vision. He didn't have long before he blacked out.

The teen half fell down the stairs and burst from the house, almost taking another nasty tumble down the stairs leading to the pathway to the regular dorms. He forced his sluggish limbs to take himself down that path, nearly collapsing several times along the way. He fought his way through the courtyard, moving as swiftly as he could without passing out. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen to his lungs. L had done more damage than he'd thought.

_I need help. I need to get to the infirmary._ The teen angled his failing body in the general direction of the infirmary and forced himself to move faster. But the more he traveled, the more he realized that he wouldn't make it there in time. He was so weak, and the infirmary was so far…and to make matters worse, it was the dead of night. There was no one around, no one for him to call for help. That is, if he could even call for help. His throat was so damaged that he doubted he could use his voice if he tried. But still, he forced himself to move forward. He had to make it as far as he could before…before…

It didn't take long before he could go no further. He didn't know where he was. His vision was fading, and as his breathing became more and more labored, all he could tell was that he was in between two buildings in front of some kind of alleyway. _This is it,_ he realized. _I can't move any further. My lungs…my heart…_ The teen stumbled one step further before collapsing onto his stomach. Groaning, he barely managed to push himself onto his back, eyes staring up blankly at the sky. _No…it can't end like this! I need to do something, anything, to increase my chances of survival! What can I do? What can I do?_

Light coughed weakly. His body was going numb, limbs and organs shutting down one by one. He flailed desperately against the cold ground, fingers snagging on something as they swept past his right thigh. In his haze, he had to struggle to get his fingers to wrap around the object he'd brushed against. He clumsily brought the thing up in front of his face, hoping that whatever it was could save him.

He frowned as he managed to make out the gleaming shape against the dim moonlight. A cross. A silver cross with a red gem in the center, held up by a gleaming chain. Light almost laughed when he realized what it was. It was the necklace that Beyond had given him so long ago. A's necklace, the one that would let Beyond know that he was in trouble. If Beyond saw him wearing it, he was supposed to take him away and save him.

_Wishful thinking,_ Light mourned. But the longer he looked at it, the more inclined he was to use it for what it was meant for. _What the hell? There's nothing stopping me now. I'll die here if someone doesn't find me._

He brought the thing up and slid it over his head, muscles fighting him every step of the way. It was useless, he knew. The necklace wasn't magical. It wouldn't summon Beyond to him like a beacon. It was just a sign, simple and physical, that Light needed help. And if he'd ever needed help, now was the time.

Light watched through half-lidded eyes as the cross fell onto his chest and sat there uselessly. The red gemstone glittered in the moonlight teasingly. He would have taken time to appreciate it if he wasn't dying. But now it was far too late for that. He'd made his choice, and now…

His lips parted slightly as he attempted a weak laugh, but nothing came out. But his mouth remained open, part of a final attempt to draw enough air to keep himself alive. He knew it wouldn't be enough. And sure enough, no matter how hard he tried to keep his world in focus, it was all beginning to blur. He stared up determinedly at the stars above him, obstructed slightly by the buildings he was lying between. _Just stay awake,_ he urged himself, fighting exhaustion. _If you fall asleep, it's all over. Just focus on those stars. Keep them in your sights. Don't let yourself fall asleep. Don't let yourself fall asleep. Don't…let yourself…fall…_

The teen's eyes were closing of their own accord. When he tried to move his hands to his face to forcefully keep them open, he found that he couldn't move. His chest was heaving, but no air was reaching his lungs.

Close by, he thought he heard footsteps.

_Help me,_ he thought weakly. _Save me!_

The footsteps were drawing nearer.

_Please…_

The footsteps were incredibly close. And then they paused, and Light could only hope that someone had seen him, and was coming to help.

A light gasp met his ears, and those footsteps were moving towards him at a swift pace. _Not a moment too soon,_ Light thought, relief flooding his veins. His eyes began to close, and this time he didn't fight it.

"Light!" a voice whispered, and a shadow was standing over him. A shadow with bright red eyes and dark hair. Someone was dropping to their knees beside him. "Oh god, Light…hang on!"

The teen couldn't hear anymore. He couldn't see. His eyes were closed, and he felt the last of his senses failing. The last coherent thought to cross his mind was of the shadow, the one standing over him, the one cradling him to his chest and rising, the one tearing across campus towards the infirmary.

_Beyond…_


	37. Kenaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm VERY excited about the remaining chapters. I built this up for so long, it's cathartic to finally get to release some of the tension!

Beyond sat at Light's side, watching over the teen as he slept fitfully on his cot in the infirmary. It had been almost a full day since he'd found Light, choking and barely clinging to life, collapsed in the alleyway between the science wing and the teachers' dorms. In that time, Light had done nothing but lie unconscious and squirm restlessly, most likely in response to whatever nightmares he was being forced to endure. He'd been given a light sedative, and was being kept unconscious for the time being. They didn't want to wake him up until he'd recovered enough to speak without hurting himself. They still weren't sure exactly what had happened, though Beyond had a good guess. That guess mainly revolved around the fact that after finding Light barely alive, Beyond had been unable to find L. The detective had vanished.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

It all began when he was on his way back to the infirmary, where he knew Near would be waiting for a report on what had happened in Japan. He'd been walking along, perfectly content to bask in the shadows created by the moon, when he'd noticed something strange. A tiny glint of scarlet had caught his eye. He'd frowned, pausing to look again. And once again, something had gleamed in the darkness, catching his attention. He'd made his way over to the glint, curious as to what could be causing such a strange reflection.

What he'd found…

Light hadn't been in good shape. He was stretched out on his back, chest heaving in desperation for oxygen, an ugly bruise forming around his throat. It was obvious that someone had tried to choke the life out of him, and had very nearly succeeded. And that red glint…

Beyond's eyes widened as he realized that Light was wearing the necklace he'd given him. The one that he was only supposed to wear if L caused him harm and he needed help.

After that, Beyond wasted no time. He soothed Light with comforting words, though he didn't think the teen was coherent, scooped him up into his arms, and took off towards the infirmary. Watari seemed rather shocked when he arrived with Light in his arms, the teen clinging onto the last threads of life. They'd had to move fast. Luckily, Watari was trained in the medical field, and despite the severity of the situation, he'd been able to save Light's life. It had been close. But in the end, Light had been forced to live on. And ever since then, he'd been kept soundly asleep.

"This should never have happened," Beyond whispered, fists clenching at his sides.

"Easy," Near murmured from his side, where he too had been watching over Light. He hadn't been nearly as diligent as Beyond in his vigil, but he'd been spending a good chunk of time in the infirmary while Light recovered. "Don't lose your head."

"You know that L did this, don't you?" Beyond hissed in a low tone. "From what you told me, it's the only explanation."

"We don't know that yet."

"Come on," he scoffed. "L rushes in here, irritable and angry as always, and takes Light with him. The two of them go back to their house, and a few hours later I find Light choking to death in the streets. And of course, when I go back to look for L, he's nowhere to be found. It seems obvious to me, at least."

Near looked away sharply. "You have a point, and I'm inclined to believe you. Especially after what's happened to Light in the past few days."

Beyond winced at the reminder of what the teen had been forced to go through. He'd thought, oh so foolishly, that Light would be okay while he went to Japan. But when he'd come back, after rescuing Light, he'd learned that the teen had been through hell. He'd had a panic attack, first of all, and had been thrown into a horrible fit after watching live security footage of the rescue attempt. As of yet, no one was sure exactly what he'd seen. But knowing L, and knowing that Light's family and other connections were now dead, Beyond was certain he knew what had occurred in that apartment complex. What had occurred because of _his_ plan.

_That's right—I can't let myself forget that it was my plan that led to this. I intended for L to kill them, even if I didn't foresee his violent actions upon returning to the orphanage. This was my fault, and it was L's fault. Both of us played a hand. But now…at least Light should be safe._

He looked down at the sleeping form stretched across the bed, expression twisting bitterly. _You've been lied to so much. Deceived too often. But not this time, Light. Once this is all over…once L has been taken care of for good…I'm going to tell you exactly what happened here. Even if it means you decide to leave me behind forever._

"Beyond?" Near murmured, and he realized that he'd been silent for several minutes.

"L killed Light's family," Beyond murmured distractedly, anger cooling as pity flooded his senses. "That's why he went insane. Just watch…when he wakes up, he'll tell you the truth."

Near didn't attempt to protest. "I suppose we'll see when he wakes up. Watari is going to take him off the sedative in a few days, right? We'll know for sure once that happens."

Beyond dipped his head. Near may have been skeptical, but _he_ knew the truth. There was no other reason for L to run away.

"I think I finally understand," Near spoke up suddenly, eyes fixed on Light's squirming form.

"Hmm? Understand what?"

The teen's expression turned pensive and regretful. "You told me once that Light was a pawn, being manipulated and toyed with by his master. I didn't believe you. I thought that even if L was somehow toying with Light, he was still killing criminals and acting out of his own accord. I thought he was just as evil as L. But if you're right, and L did all of this…"

Beyond chuckled humorlessly. "Not the hero you thought he was, eh, snowflake?"

Near shook his head.

"You still want to be like him? You still want to prove yourself better than him?"

"I don't need to prove that anymore," Near responded quietly. His eyes never left Light's form. "Just being here with Light…taking care of him after he's been so brutally mistreated, even though I despised him until now…it proves that I'm better than L. And as for being like him, consider that dream dashed. I never want to be like that monster. I'd much rather be like myself."

Beyond smiled, this time with genuine approval. "You finally get it."

Another nod.

"So are you going to help me take him down? This act of violence can't be dismissed."

"I know." Those crystalline gray eyes flashed with determination. "I can no longer call L our ally, not after all that he's done. I will help you bring him down."

"Thank you," Beyond said. "With your help, we can end this."

Near looked away guiltily. "Listen, Beyond…"

"What is it?"

The teen cleared his throat awkwardly. "I need to apologize."

"What for?"

"For letting this happen to Light. You made me promise before you left that I would keep an eye on Light. You made me promise that I wouldn't let anything happen to him. But despite that promise, I let _this_ happen to him. He had a panic attack. He practically went insane. He nearly died." He bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Beyond."

He sighed, shaking his head at the other male's show of repentance. "I'm far too much like L," he admitted. "But there's no conceivable way I can hold all these things against you, even while _he_ would. I know that you broke your promise, but I also understand that there was really nothing you could have done to keep it. When I asked you to protect him, I never foresaw that any of those unavoidable things would happen to him. That panic attack couldn't have been avoided considering the circumstances, and his consequent fit of insanity was the same. And no matter what you did, L would have taken Light back to his home, and he would have attempted to kill him. In the end, there was nothing you could have done." He reached out a hand and sealed it to Near's shoulder comfortingly. "This wasn't your fault. If anything, it's mine, and it's L's."

Near stared up at him with relief. "I'm glad you understand."

"A promise means nothing if it's impossible to keep," Beyond responded sadly. He turned his gaze back on his fallen friend. "If L and Light had just realized that from the beginning, all of this could have been avoided."

The white-haired teen was silent for a moment later. Then he rose, leaving his chair and bowing slightly. "It's time for me to go. I'm going to go oversee the search for L, so long as you don't need me here."

"Go," Beyond said. "The best thing you can do right now is lead the search and track L down. Good luck."

Near dipped his head thankfully before turning and exiting the room swiftly. But then he paused at the doorway, looking back to Beyond. "Beyond."

"Hmm?"

"I…I'm going to ask you one last thing, and I want your honest answer. Can you guarantee me that?"

"Depends on the question, snowflake."

His expression twisted. "Light's family, Kiyomi Takada, and the task force have all been slaughtered as a result of the plan _you_ concocted. You told me that L would save them, that he would put himself in danger for Light's wellbeing, show himself as Kira. But considering what I've seen in the past few days, it's become painfully clear that that isn't true—and there's no way that someone as smart as you could have made the mistake of thinking that it was."

He knew where this was going.

"Beyond…you planned this."

It wasn't a question.

"You planned this to get L away from Light, didn't you? You knew this would happen."

_Not all of it. I didn't expect L would hurt Light like this. I should have known._

"Tell me if this was your true plan, and then I will leave you alone."

He remained silent.

"Was it, Beyond? Did you plan this?"

Again, for a moment, he was silent. But there was no point in hiding it now—Near already knew. And so he looked over his shoulder, usual grin absent, and spoke. "I did."

Near watched him in with strange stillness. But then he was nodding, murmuring, "I understand." And then he was leaving, turning for the door and slipping through it without so much as another word.

†††

Light's world was slow to come back to him.

It felt like it took days to happen, but in reality, he wasn't sure if it even took an hour.

As he slowly began to wake up, he realized with a jolt that he wasn't in pain. Or rather, the only ache he felt was coming from a ring around his neck, and even that wasn't very sharp. He must have been given something for the pain. Wait…what had happened to his throat again?

It took him a while to remember. But when he did, a different kind of pain started—and this one was pounding outwards from his heart. It was the kind that no medicine could ease.

He remembered the attack. He remembered attempting to reason with L, then becoming angry and yelling at him. He remembered a hand closing around his throat, and his world beginning to fade before he managed to escape and take off in the direction of the infirmary. And he remembered collapsing outside the alleyway, Beyond finding him just before his time ran out for good.

L…he'd killed his family, and then he'd attempted to kill him.

Light's chest ached at the thought of it.

"…can't seem to find him," a low voice echoed in his ears. "We've tried hard, but the bastard always seems to be one step ahead of us. We're not sure where he's gone."

"That's unfortunate," another voice murmured. "And the search of his house? Have you completed it?"

The first voice reported, "Yes, we have. We found nothing. If the Death Note was in his possession—and we know that it was—he took it with him when he ran."

Light frowned, shifting lightly. Were they talking about L? Had he run away? Had he left him here alone? Another pang of bitter sadness assaulted him at the thought of the dark-haired detective.

The voices were whispering again. "Is he awake yet?" It was the second voice.

A deep sigh. "No, not yet, but Watari took him off the sedative a few hours ago. He should be waking up soon."

"It's about time," the second voice said. "He's been out for nearly five days."

"It was all we could do to help him heal. You saw how badly L damaged his throat. If we let him wake up any earlier than this, he would have strained himself and delayed the healing process. This way, his throat is well on its way to healing."

"You're right about that, at least."

Light shifted again, a tiny groan escaping him against his will.

The voices fell silent immediately. Then, "Mello, leave us."

"You got it. Call Near up when you hear what happened."

There was a hum of affirmation, then the sound of a door opening and closing. The next moment, a weight was settling at his side on the cot. It felt very familiar, this situation. Now, who was it sitting beside him? The voice was so familiar…

"Light?" that soft voice whispered. "If you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes."

For a moment, he wanted to refuse. His eyes were ugly, evil, tainted. But then he remembered that L wasn't here to judge him. And so sadly, awaiting a horrified gasp from the person beside him, he opened his eyes.

There was a deep moment of silence as the two stared at each other, Light's eyes adjusting to the sudden light. When he finally managed to focus on the person before him, he let out a tiny gasp of surprise. _That's right…I remember…_

"Beyond," Light whispered, staring into the reddish orange eyes that now matched his own.

If Beyond noticed the eyes, he didn't react. "Princess," he sighed with relief. "It's good to see you awake."

He stared up at him, still attempting to comprehend the situation. "W-what—?" He cut himself off in a fit of coughing, realizing too late that his throat was still damaged. "What h-happened?" He started coughing again.

"Easy," Beyond soothed. "I wouldn't be trying to talk just yet. You nearly died. Again, I might add. You really have a habit of getting yourself into life-threatening situations."

That's right…Light remembered again the way L's hand had sealed around his neck.

"Don't push yourself," Beyond said comfortingly, "but there are a few things that we really need to know.

Light gave a small nod, showing his agreement.

"Good…" The man trailed off, placing a gentle hand on Light's shoulder. It wasn't threatening or condescending as L's touch had been just before their fight, and it instantly relaxed him. "Now…this may be a bit stressful for you, and I'm truly sorry that it has to be this way. But princess…can you tell me who did this to you? I just need a name for now. The explanation can come later."

He wanted to lie. He truly wanted to help L get back on the right path, even after all the man had done to him. But now…it was too late. The detective had chosen his side, had proven his evil—and now he had to pay, just as he had made all the other criminals pay. And so with a heavy heart, he parted his lips and whispered, "L."

It was a single syllable, but it was more meaningful than he knew. Beyond nodded slowly, a sad expression on his face. "We suspected as much."

"W-we?" Light managed in a low rasp.

"I've teamed up with Near, Matt, and Mello to take down L," Beyond explained. "He fled after he attacked you, Death Notes in hand, and he hasn't been seen since. We can't find him, but we think we may be able to lure him out if we…"

Light raised a brow as the man trailed off, but he suspected that he knew what he was really thinking. _We think we may be able to take him out if we have you to use as bait._ "It's okay," he rasped weakly. "You c-can use m—"

"Shush," Beyond urged quietly. "We don't have to talk about this now. Just relax, and we can discuss our plan—and everything else that's happened in the past few days—later. All I needed to know was the name of your assailant."

Light shook his head. "N-no," he managed, throat protesting his every word. "L, he…he k-killed…"

"He killed your family," Beyond finished for him. "He killed your family, he killed Takada, and he killed the task force. He killed everyone you cared about in Japan, and then he came back and tried to kill you in a fit of rage."

The teen could do nothing but dip his head in resignation. It was all true. L had taken everything from him, and then he'd fled like the criminal he'd become. Or maybe, the criminal he'd always been.

"It's okay," Beyond whispered. "We're going to find him and bring him back. He'll be judged fairly for what he's done, as will everyone else that's been involved, and he'll never hurt you again."

Light's gaze locked onto his hands, lying firmly on his lap. He didn't want to meet Beyond's eyes. "T-there's more," he forced out, well aware of how bad he sounded.

Beyond said nothing, just watched him silently.

"M-my eyes," Light stuttered, desperate to tell his story. Someone had to know—and after all that had happened, he wasn't surprised to learn that he trusted Beyond enough to make him that someone. "I made a p-promise to L that I w-wouldn't take them, and then…and t-then…"

The older man shook his head. "You don't need to tell me this. Please rest."

"N-no!" he insisted. "M-my eyes, I tried to t-tell you…!"

Beyond's hands rose slowly to cup the sides of his face, forcing him to look into his eyes. He gently tilted Light's face from side to side, carefully observing the teen's newly acquired eyes. Then he sighed, shaking his head, but refusing to release Light's face. He kept the teen looking directly at him, never allowing his gaze to drift from his own.

"B-Beyond?" Light rasped.

The man stared at him seriously. There wasn't a hint of his normal exuberance and eccentricity. "Your eyes are beautiful."

Light stared, his mouth falling open in shock.

"You don't need to tell me," Beyond repeated. "I know why you took the eyes. I understand, princess. And I know that those eyes are a symbol of your devotion to your family. Those eyes mean that you loved them enough to give half your life for them." He released Light's face, bringing up a finger and poking him in the nose playfully. A tiny smile graced his features. "Never be ashamed of those eyes. No matter what promise you made to L, you were right to do what you did. Do you hear that, Light? You were _right."_

He was…right? No…but L had been so angry!

"L has always been angry," Beyond murmured, seemingly reading Light's thoughts. "And this time was no different. He was upset with you because he was selfish, and he wanted you all to himself. The fact that you loved your family enough to die for them angered him. It made him jealous. And so when you see those eyes in the mirror, you should never feel guilty for what you did. You loved your family—and those eyes prove it."

Light felt his eyes watering before he had a chance to stop them. He clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip to stop a whimper from escaping. But of course, it was useless in defending him from Beyond's keen gaze. The man saw everything—he always had.

"Come here," Beyond sighed, leaning in and pulling the damaged teen into a gentle hug.

Light restrained himself for as long as he could. But Beyond looked so much like L, _felt_ so much like L, and in a matter of moments he was reduced to a sobbing mess in the arms of the man he'd once considered his enemy.

Beyond never tried to push him away, not even when the hug became crushing. "It's okay," he whispered, pressing his chin to the top of Light's head. "No one will judge you here. Cry all you want."

He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be strong. But in the end, he was just as weak now as he'd been back before he met L. He'd thought that he'd grown. He'd thought that he'd become so much stronger, so much more capable of handling himself. But now, faced with this pain, he was no stronger than a child. And it crushed him. It crushed him so completely, so terribly, that he could barely breathe.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. Eventually Beyond crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of him and allowing Light to hug him as tightly as he wanted. It felt so familiar, so similar to the man Light used to love—but it just wasn't the same. And it _wouldn't_ be the same, never again. L would pay for what he'd done, and Light would be left without him. He knew that now. He knew it was the right thing.

"Are you feeling better now?" Beyond asked quietly, long after Light's sobs had faded into light sniffles and choked whimpers.

Light nodded against his chest silently, but he still held tight when Beyond tried to lean back. The older man sighed, obeying his companion's silent request to remain close. It was obvious that he needed the physical contact.

"Hey," Beyond whispered, breaking the silence. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but Near is going to want to talk to you about what happened. We're going to confront L, but we need evidence. You can be that evidence, so long as you're willing. Will you—?"

"Now," Light rasped.

"Hmm?"

"Now," he repeated. "L-let's do it now."

"You want to talk to him now?" Beyond sounded surprised. "Are you sure you're up to that? You're still stuttering, and you don't look well."

Light nodded fiercely. "I n-need to do this. L…he k-killed everyone I c-cared about. He d-deserves to be c-caught."

Beyond's gaze was painfully sympathetic. "If that's what you really want, then I won't protest. But if you're up to it, I'd like to bring you a computer. You can type out the main points of the story instead of speaking it, that way you won't damage your throat. Is that okay?"

He nodded. Anything, so long as he was able to share his story with Near. No matter what conflicting emotions he felt for L, one thing was for sure—the detective needed to be brought back. He needed to be judged for his actions. And to do that…

Light pulled back, staring up at Beyond with the eyes that had cost him half his lifespan. "I'll tell him everything."

†††

Hours later, Beyond and Near exited the infirmary and left Light to rest. The teen had kept his word, spilling every bit of his story and sparing none of the details. Now, thanks to him, they had all the evidence they needed to convict L once they caught him. And at this point, even Light seemed to understand that this was the only way.

_"It's funny,"_ he'd said—or rather, typed—eyes fixed on the blankets covering his lap. _"All this time, I knew that something was changing. In the beginning it was about making the world a better place, but the further we went, the more obsessive he became. He was killing people who didn't deserve it, people who'd committed crimes not deserving of death. And the whole time, I knew there was a dangerous pool of anger within him, but…"_ He'd stopped and shrugged, a watery smile on his face. _"Well…I suppose I never thought he'd be so angry as to lash out at me in such a way. I always thought I'd be able to calm him down and help him understand that what he was doing was wrong. But as time went on, I should have seen that he was just getting worse. Towards the end we'd work for days on end, killing anyone and everyone that L deemed a threat. I'm not even sure how many people we went through in one day. I…I should have seen it coming. There were so many signs, so many things that I missed or chose to ignore—and I just let him go off to Japan, putting aside my unease and convincing myself that he cared enough to keep my family alive."_ There'd been a bitter laugh, weak and halting. _"Look where that got us."_

Beyond closed his eyes sadly, leaning his back against the closed infirmary doors. Light was asleep now, having slipped off shortly after finishing his story. Now it was just Near and him, both standing outside the infirmary and taking in all that they'd been told.

"I never knew it got that bad," Near commented in a low murmur. "It sounds like things were truly terrible for the two of them near the end."

Beyond chuckled, "I don't think Light knew either. Hell, I don't even think _L_ knew just how much he was slipping."

"It's terrible." Near glanced back through the window of the infirmary, no doubt making sure that Light was still sleeping. "What are we going to do?"

"You're our leader, snowflake," Beyond pointed out. "You're the one that makes the plan. But if I were you, I'd go with something along the lines of luring L out and capturing him. We just need to decide how we're going to make that happen."

The teen looked away, a troubled look on his face. "That may pose a bit of a problem. I can't think of how we should lure him out, or even where we should plan to meet him."

Beyond shrugged. "If you ask me, you should just call him out again, but more personally this time. Find a way to contact him and tell him who you are and what you want. Challenge him directly, insult his pride and call him to meet you on whatever battleground you choose. After that, you can have him apprehended. That's it. Game over."

"Do you really think it will be that simple?"

"No, of course I don't. But it's a good starting point, don't you think?"

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Near's lips. "I suppose you're right. I'll meet with Mello and devise a way to contact him. I'm sure Watari will be able to help us in that regard."

Beyond dipped his head in agreement. "Good. If you don't mind, while you do that I'd like to stay here. I'm sure that L will be wanting to rescue his lost princess, if not just for the purpose of ending him permanently, and I'm not taking any chances on letting that happen. I'll watch over Light until the threat has been neutralized."

"That's probably for the best…even though L tried to kill him, he most likely still feels some form of attachment to him. He'll want him back." Near pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning on and started off down the hallway. "I need to leave. Good luck!" he called over his shoulder, walking in the direction of the dorms. He was going to speak to Mello, no doubt.

That meant that Beyond was on his own. The man gave a brief glance through the infirmary window. He longed to go back inside, to sit at Light's side and make sure nothing happened to him. But he knew that after being forced to bare his soul in front of both him and Near, it would be best if he had some time to himself. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to keep an eye on him to make sure L didn't come back.

Until Light was completely safe, Beyond was determined to never leave his side. No matter what happened, he would not let him become another one of L's victims.

At least…not any more than he already had.

†††

A long way away, L stood on the roof and stared up at the stars.

The detective had taken shelter in one of the many abandoned farmsteads in the area, taking a car and fleeing with only a bag containing bare necessities. Although it was poorly lit and falling apart, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Now he stood on the roof of the rickety house, feeling the old, rotting material cave slightly under his weight. This wasn't safe, he knew. Beyond, Near, Mello, and many more would be looking for him after what he'd done.

His heart clenched at the thought. He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, an attempt to distract from the emotional pain by embracing the physical. Light…he couldn't stop thinking of their disastrous encounter. He couldn't understand it. He was utterly perplexed trying to figure out why Light had been so upset with him for _saving_ him. Why had he provoked him, driven him to attack?

_If he hadn't provoked me, I never would have lost my temper,_ L thought bitterly. _Honestly, what the hell did he think he was doing? What I did was for the greater good, why couldn't he see that? I freed him from the darkness, and in return he broke his promise and halved his lifespan. It's obvious now that he cared about his family more than he cared about me. But now I've taken his family from him. I've set him free! He must see that it was all for him!_

Above him, the stars glittered tauntingly. _Why can't he understand?_ L thought mournfully. _He should be thanking me for helping him struggle free from the source of his stress._ The roof cracked slightly beneath his feet, and L swiftly shifted his weight to another spot. It wouldn't do to go falling through the roof and hurting himself. _He doesn't understand. But if I can just get to him, I know that I can_ make _him understand. I'll rescue him from his worry, from his stress, from his heartache, and I'll explain everything to him. I don't care how long it takes, I will get him back and make him see how I've helped him. I'll rescue him from the monsters that have taken him under their wing._

He bristled at the thought of other people attempting to help _his_ Light. They had no business being around him. They had no right to help him. L was the only one who had that privilege. _I'm the only one who loved him enough to save him from his family, and I'm the only one who loves him enough to save him now!_

But now it was too late—at least, for now. After he'd regained his senses, he'd known immediately that he had to run. When Light reached wherever he was running to, the people there would no doubt send someone to question him. Beyond had been waiting for something like this to happen for years. If he found out, he'd take him into custody and never let him go. He'd take _Light_ into custody and never let him go. The thought made him so furious that he saw red. The thought of Beyond attempting to get close to Light…it was _nauseating._ He would payfor this.

_I'm the one in the right,_ L told himself bitterly. _Light was the one who broke his promise and took the eyes. He halved his lifespan. But even so, I'm willing to forgive him so long as he apologizes and means it. I'll get him back. I'll get my apology. I'll make him see that I'm the one that's saved him._

_No matter what happens, I'm going to save him._

_Even if that means putting him in the ground with the rest of his traitorous family._

†††

After that, Light slept. He wasn't sure how long it was, or how many hours at a time he was forced to relive the past few days within terrible nightmares. All he knew was that every time he awoke, he spent a few minutes thrashing about in a panicked fit before Beyond appeared to remind him of where he was and what was happening. After he managed to regain his cool, it only took a few minutes for him to slip back to sleep, and the terrible process simply repeated itself. And so for however long it was, be it days, weeks, or even months, he found himself submerged in a miserable haze. The only time he emerged was when he was forced to eat or hold a short, painful conversation with one of the successors or Beyond himself.

His short periods of wakefulness were no more peaceful than his nightmares. Whenever his mind fought its way to the surface, it was plagued with terrible memories. All he could think about was L, and the way he'd betrayed him and attempted to end his life. And in the brief moments where he managed to fight down such awful memories, he was only assaulted by the laughing, smiling faces of his family. It didn't take long to drive him to the precipice of insanity. After the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth time reliving the deaths of his family and that cold, heartless hand around his throat, he felt his mind teetering on the edge.

Beyond was the only thing keeping him grounded. Light didn't know how he did it, or even _why_ he did it, but he was always there. And as Light awoke now, for the umpteenth time that day, he was there waiting.

"You feel warm," Beyond commented quietly, cool fingers brushing across his forehead. "You're not getting a fever, are you?"

Light hummed, shaking his head from side to side. His throat was almost completely healed, but his many days of being unable to talk had fostered a new habit of silence.

"You can speak, you know," Beyond told him. "I know you don't want to, but it's dangerous for you to keep silent for so long. You'll shut yourself off from the rest of the world and become just as secluded as…" He trailed off, but Light knew what he'd been about to say. _Just as secluded as L._ "Never mind that. You need to get used to speaking again."

Light's head lowered slightly. He wouldn't meet Beyond's gaze. He didn't want to speak unless he was speaking to L, condemning him for everything he'd done.

There was another soft sigh. "What are you going to do if you find L again and can't speak to him because you've lost your voice? You need to make sure that doesn't happen, right? So speak."

"I don't want to," Light muttered, the words causing only minimal pain. He was shocked to hear the raspy, weak quality his voice had attained over the past several days.

Beyond visibly relaxed the instant the words hit the air. "Well that's too bad, princess. You have a responsibility to make sure you stay here with us. You can't go letting yourself fade away."

"Isn't that what I've been doing since the beginning?" Light murmured. "Fading away, bit by bit, until nothing remains?"

"I'm not going to let that happen," Beyond insisted, his voice growing hard. "I won't let you slip away from us."

Light smiled wearily. "Beyond," he rasped, wincing slightly as he spoke. "You've been so kind."

The man returned his smile with a confused frown. "Yes, of course. I told you, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You won't be his next victim."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" It was the same question he'd asked L. Perhaps he could actually get an answer out of Beyond.

"Why?" Beyond echoed, puzzled. "You want to know why I've been kind to you?"

He kept his eyes lowered. "There has to be a reason. There has to be a reason that you're caring for me even after everything that's happened."

The man stared at him, momentarily stunned. Then his gaze softened, lips quirking upwards into a gentle smile. "That's easy. I care about you."

"Yes, but why? There must be a reason."

That smile fell slightly, and those kind eyes flickered with dark emotion. "Princess…"

"I need to know!" Light rasped out, voice rising slightly in aggravation. "Please, Beyond…tell me."

Beyond fixed him with a conflicted gaze. "I'm really not sure if that's a good idea."

"I need to know," Light insisted. "When I asked L why he did what he did, I never got a response. So now, even if it's not the same thing…I need _you_ to tell me why."

That was all it took to melt Beyond's heart. Light watched those reddish orange eyes go from conflicted to affectionate in a heartbeat, and it reminded Light hauntingly of the way _he_ used to gaze at Sayu, with eyes full of love and pride. "Okay," he whispered, reaching out a hand and brushing Light's hair aside. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you."

Light leaned forward in anticipation. And then…

"Once upon a time—"

"Seriously?" Light chuckled weakly. "Again with the fairy tale?"

Beyond blinked, seemingly taken aback. But then he huffed out an amused breath, and murmured, "I suppose you're right…there will be no more fairy tales now. Only the truth." He shifted from the chair and seated himself on the edge of Light's bed. "Now…a long time ago at this very orphanage, there lived three close friends. They were three of the brightest minds in the world—and their names were B, L, and A."


	38. The Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"So it's official, then! Wammy's House is open!"

A chorus of tiny cheers emerged from the three children standing in front of the newly constructed orphanage, three sets of gleaming eyes staring up adoringly at the elderly gentleman standing on the front steps.

"Oh, wow!" one of the children gasped, his dark hair and scarlet eyes shining in the bright sunlight. "We can really go inside now? It feels like it's been forever since you started building this place, Watari!"

"A few months is hardly forever," the inventor chuckled. "But you've never been much for patience, Beyond."

"Yes, Beyond," a second child chimed in in a cool tone, staring up at the orphanage curiously. "You've always been impatient, but this is pushing it a bit."

Beyond looked away with a pout. "You're no better, Lawliet! The entire time we were on the plane, you wouldn't stop looking out the window every five minutes to see if we were close!"

"How many times have I told you not to call me that? Call me L!"

"Yeah, yeah," Beyond snickered. _"L."_

The detective—that is, the soon-to-be detective—glared furiously.

Watari was the one to break them up. "Behave yourselves, children," he insisted teasingly. "You'll upset your friend."

Two pairs of eyes swung to the third child, who was staring up at the orphanage with wide, enchanted eyes. He didn't seem to have noticed the bickering of his companions.

"Sorry," L muttered, looking displeased.

"Yeah, sorry!" Beyond echoed with a bit more enthusiasm. "We didn't mean to upset you!"

The third child didn't respond for a moment. Then he turned his head, a light, happy smile on his face as he replied, "Don't worry about it, it's fine! This is just so exciting!" His hair, cut just long enough to cover his ears, shone gold in the sunlight. And his eyes…the most beautiful shade of hazel the world had ever seen. "Should we go inside?"

Beyond nodded excitedly as L shrugged. "Yeah," he said, "let's check it out!" The young boy started off towards the building, pulling L along with him. The third child, however, stayed behind and simply stared up. Beyond paused when he realized what was happening. "What's wrong?" he called back to his friend. "Come on, princess, let's get going!"

L snorted spitefully. "Again with the nicknames, Beyond? It's as if you can never call anyone by their real name."

"Hey, I call _you_ by your real name!" he protested. "I just can't seem to find a nickname that fits you."

"It's childish."

Beyond rolled his eyes, tiring of his friend's antics. "Fine, whatever." He looked back at the third child, who still hadn't moved. "Come on, A!" he called. "Come with us!"

A stared up at the building for a moment later. Then he looked to Beyond, a bright smile setting his features alight. "Sorry," he said. "I was just looking."

"Well stop looking and let's go inside!" Beyond shot back playfully. He climbed the steps and burst through the doors, L and A following belatedly behind him.

It was time to explore their new home.

†††

Hours became days, became weeks, became months. And before they knew it, it had been a year. The three friends, as incompatible they may have seemed at first glance, grew incredibly close. They were exact opposites, the three of them. L, the cold, analytical genius, his brilliant mind able to puzzle its way out of any situation. Beyond, the eccentric madman whose main ability rested in his bold, daring, utterly _fearless_ nature, and his striking ability to force his way to a solution.

And then there was A.

A…he was incredible. The boy was the peacekeeper, the voice of reason whenever L and Beyond's conflicting personalities got them into trouble. He wasn't as smart as L or as bold as Beyond, but he had something unique. Something that set him apart from the two geniuses.

He had kindness. He had love. He had compassion.

And as a result, Beyond and L were immediately enamored with the boy. They never got along very well, but A kept them fixed firmly together. No matter what kind of antics they managed to get themselves into, A worked as hard as he could to keep them from tearing each other's throats out. And no matter how bad things got, no matter how vicious their fights got, A's sweet personality and irresistible puppy dog eyes always calmed them down. He was the link that held them together, the kind spirit that balanced out their fire. When they started taking on cases together, the only thing that kept them from tearing each other apart was A's guidance.

That first year was the best year any of them would ever experience.

But after that…

"Watari is bringing new children into the orphanage today," L murmured, his nose shoved up against his computer screen as he worked. "They're the first new students we've attempted to take in."

Beyond, who was busy stabbing his favorite pocketknife repeatedly into the nightstand beside his bed in the room the three of them shared, stopped to look up at the detective. "I heard about that," he said. "I wonder what the new kids will be like?"

"Don't know, don't care," was L's irritable response. "I simply want to continue working without interruption."

"Oh, come on!" A sat on the edge of his bed, legs dangling over the edges. He kicked his feet back and forth lightheartedly. "Surely you're curious to meet them, L! It'll be exciting to have new people around, don't you think?"

L scowled at him. "Are we not enough for you?"

A held his hands up reassuringly. "Of course you're enough for me. It's just nice to meet new people every once and a while. Don't tell me you've never thought about going into the real world and making new friends?"

"That thought has never crossed my mind, no."

A rolled his eyes, amused. "Of course it wouldn't occur to you. You've always been so secluded." He turned his hazel eyes on Beyond. "What about you? Are you excited?"

"Of course I am," Beyond said, unable to stop himself from smiling at the expression of pure joy on A's face. "Whatever makes you happy, princess."

A's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I hope they like us," he said. "I want us to become the best of friends!" He clasped his hands in front of his face eagerly, completely unaware of the dark look L was shooting him.

"They'll love you," Beyond reassured him. "And I'm sure I'll get along with them just fine. It's L you should be worried about."

The kindhearted teen turned his large, innocent eyes on L. "You'll be kind to them, won't you?" A asked in a pleading tone.

L hesitated, his expression conflicted. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "If it's what you want."

"Good, because it _is_ what I want. You'll behave yourself, and so will Beyond!" He looked back and forth between the two geniuses. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not," Beyond said quickly, L nodding his head in agreement beside him. "We won't ruin this for you."

A practically squealed in excitement. "Thanks, you guys!" He shot out of bed and scrambled for the door, shooting over his shoulder, "I'm going to go help Watari with the preparations. I'll see you later!" Then he was running out of the room and slamming the door behind him, leaving Beyond and L behind.

The instant A was gone, the mood in the room darkened tenfold. Beyond started jabbing his knife into the table again, chipping away at the already damaged material. Across the room, L kept his eyes carefully trained on his lap.

"Hey," Beyond said suddenly. "You're _not_ going to ruin this, right?"

"Of course I'm not. Don't be ridiculous."

Beyond narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Look, L…A hasn't noticed it yet, but I have. I've seen how obsessive you are. I've seen how you're so protective of what you perceive as yours."

Now it was L's turn to narrow his eyes and glare furiously. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that he's not _yours,"_ Beyond said. "I see those dark looks you get whenever A talks about going out or making new friends. You think he doesn't have the right to care about anyone other than you and me."

"That's utterly ridiculous."

"No, it's not. Because despite what you say, you do care about this dysfunctional little family we've created. And you think that if you let A out of your sight, he'll leave us behind for good."

"Beyond, stop this at once!"

He didn't even pause. "He's not yours _,_ L. You've been working this whole time to keep him close because you don't want him to leave us behind. I wouldn't put it past you to do something drastic."

"That's _enough!"_ L shot to his feet, glowering down at Beyond furiously. "I told you to stop this nonsense!"

"And there's that temper of yours," Beyond sighed. "It's going to get us into trouble one day, you know."

"I won't listen to this," L snarled. He shot to his feet, storming off towards the door. "I'm leaving."

Beyond shook his head, watching his companion slink out of the room. One day, sooner or later, L was going to do something he'd regret. And when he did, Beyond planned to be there to stop it.

†††

More days flew by, morphing into more weeks and more months, and eventually more years. Before anyone knew what was happening, three years had passed since the founding of the orphanage. And not long after that, two more made it five.

Five whole years had passed.

Nothing had changed, and everything had changed. Beyond, L, and A still worked as a close-knit team of investigators with Watari as their supervisor. Beyond and L still bickered, and A still acted as the peacekeeper. But as time went on, A began to reach out to the other students. Over the years, more and more students had been taken into Wammy's House, until twenty-six students came to call the orphanage their own, including the original team of three. Twenty-six students, each one bearing a letter as their name. And A, the irresistible little devil, had somehow managed to become best friends with all of them.

It was L's worst nightmare. As A began working more and more with other students, he began working less and less with his original team. But A was careful about his adventures with the other students, always making sure that he made time for his two closest friends. Beyond was impressed, quite frankly. The boy tried incredibly hard to make sure him and L never felt left out, and even though it obviously exhausted him, he never let up.

"You'll wear yourself out," Beyond had told him time and time again. "You should take break. L and I won't die if you don't see us for a few days."

"Yes, but…" Just as always, the boy would look down sheepishly, a light blush covering his cheeks. "L worries me. Whenever he thinks either one of us is leaving him behind, he gets this gloomy look on his face. I'd hate to make him feel sad just because I'm too lazy to visit."

Beyond always tried to convince him, but A never listened. He was too kind, and cared too much about everyone around him. And so he could only watch as A ran about and attempted to go about business as normal. He was visibly exhausted, but it was obvious that he loved what he was doing. He wanted to be friends with everyone and solve every case that came his way, and even though it resulted in bags under his eyes, he'd never been happier. Beyond was happy for him, even if he was a bit sad that his attention was so divided.

L, on the other hand, wasn't as pleased.

Beyond was there to watch as he deteriorated. It was gradual. If he hadn't been so close to the detective, he never would have noticed. But he _did_ notice, and although it took years to happen, he saw how the darkness in L's heart was culminating. Every little thing pushed him further towards the edge. When he saw A laughing with someone else, when the boy had to leave the investigation room early because he was meeting someone for lunch, when he smiled apologetically after falling asleep right on top of a case file…it all pushed him closer and closer to whatever abyss he was teetering at the brink of.

Again, it was something that Beyond had attempted to control.

"You need to get this under control," he'd said once, concerned after L lashed out at A and driven him away. A had forgiven him instantly, claiming that he understood the violence that could be brought on by sleep deprivation, but Beyond wasn't so quick to forgive and forget. "You'll hurt him if you keep this up."

L had simply snarled at him and stormed off, just like that conversation in their shared bedroom all those years ago. And no matter how many times Beyond brought it up, L was never up to talking about it. He wasn't getting better. If anything, he was getting worse.

"It's all their fault," Beyond caught him muttering once. "The students…if they weren't here…A would stay with us."

Luckily, A had been out of the room during that particular outburst. Beyond, on the other hand, had heard the whole thing. He was growing concerned. But then again, he'd been growing concerned for five years. He knew better than anyone that L was a time bomb, just waiting to go off and take out anyone caught in the crossfire.

Sooner or later, that hatred and bitterness was going to become a problem.

Sooner or later, L was going to crack.

†††

It didn't take long. A few months later, a particularly tricky case came in, and the original three members of Wammy's House were asked to take it on. All of them eagerly agreed, excited for the chance to work together once again. It had been several months since they'd taken a case together.

The case involved a serial killer in Los Angeles, who was going around slaughtering prostitutes in a rather Jack the Ripper-like spree. There had been six victims when they'd received the case file, and by the time they actually started investigating, there'd been two more. The investigation had to move quickly, or there could be even more than that.

Beyond was thrilled to work with A again, especially on such a serious case, and especially seeing as the boy had been branching off to work with other groups as of late. A seemed happy as well, remarking offhandedly that this was just like old times. But once again, L wasn't pleased. At first, Beyond had observed a tiny flicker of excitement on his face as he realized that he'd be working with his original team. But it didn't take long for L's usual jealousy to set in, and soon he was fuming silently in a corner as he slammed away at the keys on his laptop.

Beyond couldn't understand. This was their chance to work as a team, just as they had in the beginning. Why was L so upset? A flicker of anger arose within him as he thought of L's insistence that he didn't care that A wasn't working with them as often anymore. He _did_ care. Why couldn't he just admit it and tell A the truth about how he felt? Why did he have to be so stubborn?

Time passed, the three of them struggling to catch the killer. Whoever it was, they were incredibly good. But of course, no one could hide from the three of them for long. The day came when finally, after nearly a month of working and three additional victims, L cracked the case.

As it turned out, the culprit was one of the students who had been sent to the U.S. not long ago to work on a case. The operative had been given the name X, and like all the other letters, she was one of A's friends. Frustrated at having been turned down by one of the other letters whom she'd had a romantic interest in, she'd used the case in the U.S. as a means of taking out her anger on other females. She'd only managed to avoid capture thus far because her training as a detective had also taught her how to avoid them. But even that hadn't been enough to hide her from Beyond, L, and A. They'd caught her like a fly in a trap, and all that was left was to spring that trap and take her into custody.

For a moment, they'd been overjoyed at having cracked the case. They'd finished, and now they could go about their normal lives. Beyond could go back to running around wreaking havoc, A could go back to exhausting himself by making new friends while struggling to maintain his relationships with the old ones, and L…well…

Beyond remembered the exact moment it all went wrong.

It started with a single sentence, one that dropped from L's lips carelessly, without realizing the weight that it held. "I suppose that's it then," he said, referring to the end of the case. "All we need to do is send in our forces, and X will be killed."

A shot to his feet in alarm. "Killed?" he echoed. "Surely you don't mean that, L! She doesn't have to die, does she?"

"She murdered a dozen people," was L's response. "She deserves death. Anyone who kills deserves to die themselves."

"But she's one of us," A whispered, stunned. "You can't just let her die!"

"I most certainly can." L shoved his chair back, standing up. They were in the main investigation room at the time, surrounded by empty chairs and deactivated computers. "I'll give the order immediately."

"L, no!" A stepped towards him, eyes wide and fearful. "Please, let's discuss this!"

"There's no point. She'll die, and that's final."

Beyond was the only one that saw what was really happening. He knew exactly what was going through L's head.

_This monster is one of the ones that has taken your time away from us, A. She deserves to die simply for that. The fact that she has killed others only makes it easier for me to achieve my goal. I'll use that as an excuse, and then I'll slaughter one of the many people that's taken you away from me._

"But L—!"

"Don't argue!"

"No, L," Beyond hissed, rising to A's defense. "You can't just decide that she needs to die. We should inform Watari of our findings, and he'll decide what should be done. You have no right to end her life."

"Of course you don't!" A chimed in. "She's my friend, L! You can't just kill her!"

And that was the problem, wasn't it? The issue at the heart of the situation. X was A's friend, as were all the other children in the orphanage. They were his friends, his _connections,_ and L hated it. He hated them all. They had no right to steal A away from him. No right at all.

"Be quiet!" L hissed furiously. "You don't have a choice in the matter!"

"How can you say that?" A wailed, hands gripping L's shirt weakly. "L, please, you can't do this! She's my—"

"Be _quiet!"_ L roared, shoving A away violently.

The boy gasped, staggering backwards and nearly tripping over one of the empty chairs. "L…?" he asked fearfully.

Beyond stepped forward immediately. "L," he warned, "don't do this. Just calm down, and we'll talk it out." His hands rose in a soothing gesture, even as his fingers twitched towards the knife tucked into the sheath at his belt.

"No," L spat, backing up until he was well out of Beyond's reach. "I'm tired of this! I've been putting up with this for five years, and I'm done with all of it! I won't live like this any longer!"

Beyond sensed danger. "L, please—"

"You won't take this from me!" the detective roared. "Never again, Beyond!"

The next few moments were a blur. Beyond was sure that L had yelled something else, that he'd shot back a heated response, but the words were lost in the blur of motion that followed. All he could recall was a sudden flash of black and white, then the feeling of hands gripping his wrists and slamming him viciously against the ground. He hadn't been expecting the physical attack. Stunned, it took him a few moments to recover. But when he did, he didn't hold back.

The fight that followed was the worst of Beyond's life. It could have lasted seconds or minutes, and he wouldn't have known the difference. All he knew in that time was that L was struggling, struggling to hurt him in any way possible, and he had to defend himself. He had to stop L from taking him down and then moving on to A.

"Please!" A wailed in the background, attempting to stop his two best friends from fighting. "Come on, you guys, you can't do this! Just calm down! Let's talk, okay?"

They either didn't hear or didn't care. The two had passed the point of no return, years of silent hatred and bottled up anger exploding into a horrific show of violence. No one could stop them now. Not even A, with his sweet voice and pleading eyes, could reach them.

L was the one to end the fight—or at least to give it pause. In a bought of strength, he pinned Beyond's arms to the ground with one hand and slid his hand down his side with the other. By the time the man realized what L was trying to do, it was far too late. L was pushing him away a heartbeat later, knife in hand, leaving Beyond completely defenseless.

A cried out, his tone horrified. "L, what are you doing? You can't!"

He ignored him. The detective's eye was swollen, his lip gashed open and dripping blood down his chin. His pale flesh was dappled with growing red splotches that would soon fade to purple bruises. He was standing in a way that favored his left foot, for the right had been twisted by Beyond's cruel hands. "This is it," he snarled, taking a menacing step forward. "I'm ending this, Beyond."

Beyond's heart leapt into his throat. "L, come on…" He got to his feet slowly, ignoring the blood dripping down the side of his face from a gash at his hairline. He too was splotched with bruises. "Put the knife down."

"I won't feel weak ever again!" L insisted, eyes wide and crazed. "I'll never let anyone take him away from me!"

"Take who away from you?" A burst out, the only oblivious one left. "L, whoever this person is, no one is trying to take him from you! If that's what you think, then let's just talk to him and figure out what's going on!"

Beyond watched L carefully for any sign of agreement, but he found only the insanity of a man that had kept his paranoia and fear under lock and key for five years. He'd slipped, and there was nothing that could bring him back.

"It's over," L growled, brandishing the knife in Beyond's direction. "No one is going to steal his time away ever again, Beyond. Not even _you."_

Oh, this was bad. Beyond eyed the knife nervously, eyes flickering up briefly to study L's expression for any sign of hesitation. But as he'd feared, there was none. L was gone, consumed by anger, bitterness, and his own paranoia. "L, come on," he said again. "Just calm down."

His response was a loud, bitter laugh that echoed around the large room. "Too late for that, Beyond. This ends here."

The world became a blur of motion, and the next thing Beyond felt was a sharp, stinging pain in his upper arm. He cried out, slamming his foot into L's stomach and shoving him back. When he brought his hand up to cup his arm, it came away red. The cut wasn't large; it appeared that L's exuberance at fighting back had led to his aim being sloppy at best. But it stung, and it could be dangerous if he didn't bandage it soon.

"L!" a shocked voice cried out, and A's hands flailed in front of him as he attempted to find something to do to stop his friend. "What are you doing? You hurt Beyond!"

"You shouldn't care about this bastard!" L snarled, flicking his wrist and spraying the remaining blood clinging to the knife across the floor. "He's been rotten from the start, and this only proves it!"

"What do you mean?" A gasped indignantly. "You're the one who looks rotten right now, L! You're the one proving yourself to be the bad guy!"

"Shut up!" the detective spat. He pointed the knife at Beyond once more, proclaiming, "You won't get off so easy the second time, you monster! I'll rip your heart out of your chest!"

Beyond winced as more blood spilled from the wound at his arm. "You're the monster here," he snapped back. "You're trying to kill me!"

"Not trying," was the vicious response. "Succeeding."

After that, the world blurred just one more time. L threw himself at Beyond, knife poised to strike—and Beyond, knowing there was nothing he could do, prepared an attempt to grab L's arm at the last second and aim the strike somewhere else.

And at the same time, unbeknownst to them, A made his move as well.

"No!" A screeched, the blur of movement suddenly containing a hint of yellow and hazel. "L—!"

And then that voice was cut off in a halting gasp, choking slightly as red sprayed the ground.

The world stood still.

And then, a pained breath splitting the silence, a body hit the ground.

For a moment, Beyond could do nothing but stare. He could barely understand what had just happened, could barely comprehend just why he was suddenly splattered with red. But then he _did_ understand, _did_ comprehend, and his whole word turned upside down.

L had swung at him, knife aiming for his throat. Beyond had grabbed his wrist and shoved the blade away from him. A had lunged at them, hoping to stop the fight. And in that fateful moment, as Beyond shoved the knife aside and A leapt forward, that knife had been stabbed straight into his side.

"A…" Beyond choked out belatedly, moving to drop to his knees beside the bleeding teen. But before he could do anything, L was already moving.

"You idiot!" L screeched down at the unmoving form of his companion, reaching down and curling his fingers in the boy's collar, hoisting in from the ground furiously.

"L!" Beyond gasped. "Put him down! We need to get Watari!"

"Be quiet!" L snapped, not even sparing him a glance. The knife was still in his hand, even as the other held A up against the wall. "You can't help him! Only I can help him!"

"L, open your eyes! This is insane!" Beyond's eyes locked fearfully onto the blood seeping from the stab wound in A's side, pooling around L's shoes at an alarming rate. "You'll kill him!"

_"I'll_ kill him?" L snarled. "You're the one who's responsible for this! You moved my knife to the side and stabbed him!"

_"You_ stabbed him, you moron! All I did was push your hand aside, and you did the rest!"

"If you hadn't pushed my hand to the side, then—"

"This is _your_ fault! _You're_ the reason he's dying right now!"

That made him pause. Even in his rage-driven state, L seemed to realize that there was some truth in that statement.

"Y-you guys…" a weak voice rasped, drawing their attention immediately.

"Princess!" Beyond gasped, taking a step towards his injured friend. Then he stopped, noticing the way L was aiming the knife at him. "A, just stay awake…we'll get you help!"

_"You're_ not going to do anything," L spat. "I'll be the one that saves him!"

"Then _save_ him," Beyond hissed. "Now, L! Go!"

The detective paused. "But…"

"Just get help!"

A weak laugh emerged from A's throat. "You guys have…h-have always fought s-so much…"

"Lawliet," Beyond whispered, "please, go…"

L stared at him with uncomprehending eyes. "Beyond, I—"

_"Go!"_

That got through to him. L's hand withdrew, and A's body struck the ground with a dull thud. The detective took a few steps backwards and looked down at A in horror, as if he was just realizing what he'd done. It was obvious that he wanted to stay. But he clearly realized the situation they were in, and understood that time was crucial. It took only a moment longer for him to turn and run from the room, hopefully to bring help.

The instant he was gone, Beyond dashed to A's side. The boy was curled on his side in a pool of blood that was only growing larger by the second. His hand clutched weakly at the wound. "B-Beyond," he rasped when he saw his friend drawing closer. "A-are you…?"

"I'm fine," Beyond whispered, dropping to his knees beside his friend, wincing as cooling blood soaked into his jeans. "Please, princess, don't speak." He hooked his arms beneath A's form and attempted to lift him.

"H-hey!" the boy gasped, features contorting in agony. "Beyond, t-that hurts!"

Beyond immediately let A back down, knowing that moving him would be too dangerous now. Instead, he settled for pulling his friend's head into his lap and stripping himself of his shirt, balling it up and pressing it to his bleeding wound.

"It's okay," he soothed as A gasped in pain. "I'm going to stop the bleeding, and L has already gone for help. "All you need to do is stay awake."

He laughed weakly, raising one blood-soaked hand and pressing it to Beyond's cheek. "T-too late, Beyond…"

"What? Of course it's not too late, it's only been a few minutes since…since you—!"

A shook his head weakly. "Look at the b-blood."

Beyond's eyes dipped to the scarlet pool. It was growing with every second, and it had already reached an alarming volume. L had cut deeper than he'd thought, and over such a vital area… "You're going to be okay," he assured him. "Like I said, all you need to do is stay awake."

A didn't seem to hear him. "L-listen to me, Beyond…"

"No talking! You can tell me later!"

_"Listen,_ Beyond!"

He fell silent obediently, drawing his friend closer.

A's breathing was labored as he forced out, "You and L…y-you've always fought so m-much…and I've always tried to s-stop you."

"And you've done well, A. We wouldn't have made it this far without you."

He shook his head. "L-listen…I'm not going to be around to s-stop you anymore, so I need you to p-promise me that—" He cut himself off, coughing violently. Blood spattered his lips, and Beyond realized that L must have stabbed deep and high enough to puncture a lung.

A was drowning in his own blood. It was a horrific way to go.

The boy continued on determinedly. "I need you to p-promise me that you w-won't leave each other behind, o-okay?"

"Leave each other behind?"

"You fight s-so much, and if I'm not t-there, then…"

He understood. "Once you're gone, you think that we'll fight so much that we won't be able to work together anymore. You think we'll fall apart."

A nodded shakily. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth with every word, adding to the supply beneath him. "Promise me that you'll w-work together again, okay? And promise me t-that you won't ever h-hurt each other again!"

_After what he did to you?_ Beyond felt a terrible swell of anger in his heart. But still…he had to do this, at least, for the boy he owed so much to. "Of course," he whispered, choking back his anger. "I promise. Now, is that enough to keep you happy?"

A smiled, and it was a smile filled with genuine happiness. "Y-yeah, Beyond, it is. T-thank y…" He started coughing again.

"That's enough," Beyond urged. "Stop talking now and rest, but _don't_ close your eyes."

The boy's head tilted slightly, locking eyes with him. "Beyond," he whispered, though his words were thick with the bubbling liquid in his throat and lungs. "T-thank you. For everything."

_He's thanking me?_ "Hush," he urged again. "Just be quiet, okay?"

A's lips curled upwards. "And tell L…t-tell him that I…that I've a-always…"

He trailed off, features twisting as he began coughing again, and said no more. Instead, he lay limp in Beyond's arms until the help L had gone to retrieve arrived.

Beyond distinctly remembered Watari's horrified gasp when he first laid eyes upon the scene. But thankfully he'd been quick to act after that initial gasp, and soon A was being hauled onto a stretcher by medical personnel and carted off to the infirmary. Beyond and L were taken away and questioned by Watari, but Beyond's mind wasn't there. All he could think of was A, being sewn up and picked at by doctors. He wanted so badly to believe that the boy would be okay, but in the end…

He closed his eyes. That was a thought for another time.

†††

Far above him, the wind was howling.

Beyond stood on the roof of the building that had recently been built to house the students that were now pouring into Wammy's House. It looked quite nice, with the fancy roof tiles and the railing surrounding them. But tonight it would not be used for such a pleasant conversation.

"It's been a month."

He waited for a response from the man standing behind him, but he received nothing but empty silence.

"Did you know that, L?" Beyond tried again. "It's been a month since the incident."

"I'm aware of the time that has passed," L said after a moment's pause.

There was another period of silence. Then, "I expected you to want to speak with me sooner."

L sighed, face tilting up to face the moon. "I didn't know what to say."

A flicker of spite pierced Beyond's heart. "How about an apology? That would be a good place to start."

"I don't—"

_"No,_ L," Beyond rasped. "You need to apologize. No arguing."

More silence. Then slowly, haltingly… "I'm sorry."

"Except you're not, are you? You still think you did the right thing in attacking me."

No response.

"A is…" Beyond trailed off, struggling to retain his composure. Even after a month, it still hurt. "A is dead because of you."

The wind shrieked, stirring up leaves and swirling them about above their heads.

"It shouldn't have happened," L murmured. "It was a mistake."

He sounded genuine, but Beyond knew that they weren't talking about the same thing. L still thought that he'd done the right thing. The mistake he was referring to was the moment in which Beyond had shoved the knife aside instead of taking it himself.

The detective shoved his hands into his pockets restlessly. "In any case, it's over now. What's done is done. It's time to move on."

He knew that L didn't really think that. He knew.

"I've decided that I'm going to forget," L announced quietly.

"Forget?" Beyond burst out. "No, L, you can't just do that! You can't do something so awful and then conveniently forget all about it! It's not how the world works! And A…if you forget him, then I'll—!"

"Just what will you do? Will you attempt to kill me the same way I tried to kill you?" A bitter laugh accompanied his words.

Beyond fell silent. When he next spoke, his voice was soft and barely audible above the roaring wind. "I made a promise to A."

"And what was that?" He still sounded bitter, even after all that had happened. Had he not learned that bitterness and anger could only lead to tragedy?

"I promised him that we would still work together."

L snorted. "Well there's no way in hell that's happening, not after what you did."

"What _I_ did?" Beyond echoed indignantly.

"You were the one that shoved the knife out of the way. If you'd just taken that blow and died, A would still be here right now."

He stared blankly. He'd run out of words to use in arguing against L.

The detective looked away irritably. "There's no way I'll work with the person who got A killed. Whatever promise you made to him is meaningless now."

"But I promised—"

"It's over, Beyond." L turned his back on him, starting to head for the hatch that would take him back inside. "Watari has officially disbanded our team, so we are free to do whatever we wish now. And I, for one, intend to go—"

_"L!"_

The detective jolted in surprise, turning back as his voice died mid-sentence.

"L," Beyond repeated, tone low and ragged, chest heaving. "I _promised_ A that we would work together, and I _promised_ him that we wouldn't hurt each other."

That earned him a startled look. L eyes widened, entire form tense as he bit out, "You promised we wouldn't hurt each other? That's completely ridiculous, I'm going to _kill—!"_

Beyond didn't give him the chance to finish. "I intend to keep those promises."

"I'm not working with you!" L snapped. "And I can't promise not to kill you. I have no interest in keeping some _ridiculous_ promise that you made to me while I wasn't even in the room."

"I didn't make that promise to you, I made it to _A!_ If it were up to me, I'd never speak to you again, and your body would already be cooling in the room where A was killed!"

L just stared, expression unreadable.

"I'm going to keep my promise," Beyond repeated. "I'm going to work with you, and I'm not going to kill you—not because out of forgiveness, not out of want, but out of respect for A. The last thing he wanted was for us to stop our bickering!"

The detective remained completely silent. But now his expression was shifting, melting into something that vaguely resembled guilt.

_One more push, and I'll have him._ "Come on, L. Somewhere in the cold, withered heart of yours you _must_ know that this was your fault. _Own up to it now_ , in the only way you can."

"It wasn't my fault," L snarled, and all guilt was immediately gone in favor of pure hatred.

"L…"

The detective turned on heel, showing Beyond his back. And for a long moment he just stood there, presumably glaring down at the tiled roof. When he finally spoke again his voice was rough, and it was clear that he was done talking about promises. "I didn't come here to speak with you about A, or about any of these ridiculous promises."

"What? Then why _did_ you come here?"

He stopped, his hand resting the door that would lead him back into the orphanage. "I came here to tell you that I'm leaving this place. There's a case in Australia that I find quite interesting, and working out of Wammy's House no longer seems appealing to me."

Beyond stared, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

"Yes. And I won't be returning here, not for quite some time. So I suppose that in the end, I'm really here to say goodbye."

"You can't be serious," Beyond whispered.

"I'm dead serious."

"But—!"

He received a dull glare in response. "Goodbye, Beyond."

"Wait, L!" He lurched forward, half-intent upon stopping the detective from walking out on him for good. But L was already pausing, much to his surprise. The detective froze in place, door open and ready to take him away, and he returned that piercing glare to the person that had become his worst enemy.

"I can't," he said flatly, as if Beyond was supposed to know what he was referring to.

"You can't? Can't what?"

He was silent for an awkwardly long moment. But then he spoke, and his voice was tight with a mixture of anger and guilt. "I can't promise you that we'll work together again. In fact, I can promise you that we _won't._ And I sure as hell can't promise that I'm not going to get you killed."

"Then what's the _point—?"_

He held up a finger. "But what I can promise you is that _I_ will not be the one that kills you." He turned away, burning gaze returned to the rooftop. "That's the best I can do, for _A._ Not for you."

His heart sank, but he knew that this was the best he was going to get. "Then I will match your promise."

L didn't even look at him. "So it's settled, then."

And it was. Beyond offered no resistance, and L didn't hesitate as he stepped back inside and left the other man standing alone on the rooftop.

†††

That conversation was the last that L and Beyond would have for what felt like an eternity. After that fateful night on which the two former friends parted ways, their next meeting wouldn't be until the night on which they discussed their relation to Light. Fifteen long years would pass in between.

In those fifteen years, Beyond kept track of what L was up to. He watched as the detective crossed the globe, never returning to Wammy's House for very long, spending all his time solving cases around the world. He followed him endlessly, slipping further and further in his attempts to incriminate the detective, and before long he found himself beginning to turn just as bad—if not worse—than the person he was going after. He was no stranger to murder, not after the first time he raised a knife to one of L's acquaintances in hopes of learning something he could use against him. He knew he was no prince—but L deserved just as much as him to be taken down.

The worst times happened when L' returned to Wammy's House, though. Returning to Wammy's House always made Beyond's stomach drop, and it seemed to have just as negative an effect on L. Whenever the detective returned to the orphanage, he made an active effort to avoid speaking with any of the students. He hated them, Beyond knew. L hated the students of Wammy's House, because even five, ten, fifteen years after A's death, he still blamed anyone and everyone at the orphanage for the incident. He especially blamed Beyond. He avoided him like the plague.

And that was fine with him. Beyond hated L just as much for what he'd done, and didn't want to spend any more time near him than was necessary. He wanted to take his revenge, to knife L in the back and step on the body, but the promise he'd made bound him to silent acceptance. He hated L, and L hated him, but they had sworn to battle with their minds rather than their bodies. After what had happened to A, it was the least they could do.

But now…

Fifteen years had passed. Fifteen years since L had lost his temper and killed A. And in those fifteen years, to Beyond's knowledge, L had never had another fit as powerful as the first. There had been flashes of anger, times in which he was fiercer than normal—but he'd always managed to restrain himself. It would have been a positive change, if not for one, tiny detail.

All of that anger…it was still buried deep within L's heart. He hadn't solved his problem, he'd only shoved it so far down that he couldn't see it anymore. But now, after so many years…it was bubbling to the surface once again. That same destructive anger that had taken A from him had attempted to claim Light as well. It had nearly succeeded. And even now, Beyond felt the terrible suspicion that L's hatred, his bitterness at the world, was about to expand even further.

The detective was going to snap, and he was going to try to take everyone with him.

But this time, Beyond wasn't going to let him succeed. He'd tried to let L work things out on his own. He'd tried to leave him alone out of respect for his promise to A. But now…what L had done…it was despicable. He'd slaughtered thousands of criminals and slews of innocent people in his quest to create a perfect world. A wouldn't have wanted to protect someone like that. He would have understood that it was time to put the past to rest—and for that to happen, L would have to be taken care of for good. He couldn't be allowed to hurt any more innocent people.

In a few days, the final confrontation would take place. And when it did, Beyond wasn't going to let L escape with his life.

* * *


	39. The Blank Rune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The climax of this story occurs in the next chapter. Hope you're ready!

"So that's it, then?" Light asked, voice quivering slightly. "That's why you've tried so hard to save me? Because you see me as the mirror image of A?"

"Not quite the mirror image," Beyond corrected. "In fact, you're actually quite different. As I said, A was always a people person, and you…" He trailed off with a teasing smirk. "Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?"

"Beyond!" Light protested.

"Fine, fine," the man chuckled. "What I mean is, the two of you are quite different, but you have something crucial in common—your hearts."

"Hearts?" he echoed.

Beyond smiled wistfully. "Yeah. Your hearts. I think that at your cores, both of you were very kind, even if you got lost somewhere alone the way. You both wanted to help the people around you. That's why you started killing, isn't it? You wanted to help people, and you thought you'd been given the power to change the world. A never got the chance to make the world a better place, but I have a feeling that he would have gone for it, just like you did."

"I see…" Light's head was spinning with the weight of the information that had just been dropped on him. He'd finally learned what had transpired fifteen years ago—and it terrified him. "I can't believe L killed him," he rasped. "He just stabbed him, just like that…"

"Well, not exactly," Beyond replied. "To be fair, I was the one who pushed his knife aside. He never intended to kill A, and that counts for something, at least."

"It counts for nothing!" Light protested. "Even if he didn't mean to kill A, he meant to kill _you!_ "

Beyond nodded his head. "You're right—and I'm in no way suggesting that his actions were justified. His anger transformed him into a monster, and it drove him to kill the only person he truly wanted to protect. There was nothing just or right about what he did. But even though I know that, and even though I know that it was his fault, I can't help but feel responsible. I should have taken action to stop L before he slipped over the edge. I could have saved A if I'd just been a little more careful."

"You had no way of knowing that it would come to that. You couldn't have done anything more than you did."

The man smiled sadly, saying, "Thank you. But I know what I should have done, and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. If L attempts to resist capture, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"No…" Light whispered, a fierce pain stabbing at his heart. "You can't! That's taking things into your own hands; you'll be no better than him!"

"Listen to me, princess. In the days that you've been sleeping, Near has formulated a plan. We've yet to act on it, but from what I understand, our little tale is about to end. When that happens, I plan to do everything in my power to stop L from hurting anyone else ever again. If he tries to resist, I won't hesitate to shoot. That promise I made to A…it was so very long ago, and so much has changed that I've decided it's worth breaking to protect you and everyone else L will one day attempt to slaughter."

"Beyond…"

"Look at how many people he's killed, and consider how many he _will_ kill in the future if he's allowed to live. I recognize that I'm lowering myself to his level in deciding to kill him if necessary, but it's nothing that I haven't done before. I've never shied away from murder."

"But…" He trailed off helplessly. _Are you really just going to kill him?_

Beyond seemed to see his uncertainty. "Look," he murmured, "I'm not just going to charge at him and shoot him point blank. I'll give Near's plan a chance, and I'll only move to take his life myself if he poses a direct threat to us. But Light…surely you understand that even if we capture him and give him a fair trial, he'll most likely be sentenced to death, or at the very least be given a life sentence."

He did. He knew that.

"It's okay if you feel conflicted," Beyond said gently. "You spent a lot of time with L, and became quite attached to him. But now he's shown his true colors, and it's time to bring him to justice."

Light couldn't meet his gaze. He was right. There was no way around it. "When will you take him down?"

"We don't know just yet. We've yet to send him a message requesting for a meeting."

"A meeting?" Light echoed. "You're going to meet him on equal grounds? It seems smarter to just barge in and take him into custody."

"It won't be on equal grounds. Near hasn't worked everything out yet, but I'm sure he'll have some way to get the drop on L."

"That still sounds like a terrible idea."

"Maybe. But if this is what it takes to get L out of hiding and into custody, we're willing to take the risk."

†††

"I've found a way to contact L," Near said, having pulled Beyond outside the infirmary to speak with him.

"Is that so?" It was about time. Beyond had been waiting to confront L for far too long. He could hardly wait. "In that case, what exactly are you planning to say to him?"

"The plan hasn't changed," was the response. "I'm going to send L a message requesting a meeting, and then we'll go there and take him down."

"You honestly expect him to trust that you won't just bring in a squad of officers to capture him?"

Near narrowed his eyes irritably. "Of course I don't expect him to trust me. That's why he's going to be the one to choose the location and the time. Knowing L, he'll choose a place where he's confident that I can't break our agreement and bring in a team of officers to arrest him. I actually expect him to order us to go to the chosen location and wait until he's searched the area for officers and taken out anyone he finds. For that reason, you understand, it's safer and easier to meet him without bothering with bringing in our own team of officers—but that doesn't mean I can't take other precautions. I'm sure I'll be able to find some way of electronically surveying the area, that way we'll have recorded evidence of the encounter."

"That seems like it'll help us later, but it's not much of an advantage at the meeting itself. Still sounds like we're meeting on pretty much equal grounds."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Beyond frowned. "What do you mean?"

"That should be rather obvious," Near scoffed. "We have Light, don't we? We have the person that L cares about, and therefore we have an inherent advantage."

"I'm not sure if that will be enough to change anything. L tried to kill him, after all."

"You know full well that L didn't attempt to kill Light because he didn't care about him. Judging from Light's story, it sounds like L cared too _much_ about him, and that that passion turned to obsessive anger when he thought there was a chance that Light was turning against him."

He was right. "Fine," Beyond sighed, "you have a point. But still, L _won't_ give himself up just to save Light. We've already determined that."

"He won't be giving himself up, he'll be coming to meet us on what _he_ believes will be equal terms." A tiny smile graced Near's features, and he began twirling a lock of hair between two fingers. "He'll come to us, not to give himself up, but to take us down. He'll have a plan to kill us all and take Light back, I'm sure of it. All we have to do is use Light to gain a little bit of leverage in getting him to meet us, and perhaps even in taking him down when the time comes. Once we're all in the same place, I'm confident that we will be able to take him into custody."

"Very clever," Beyond murmured.

He nodded. "We'll be attempting to _capture_ L unless he becomes too dangerous. And in the event that he does put our lives in real danger, you will be the one to take him out."

"Understood. So our next step will be to send the message, correct?"

"Yes, and I've already set everything up to send it. All that remains is to record the message. I'm heading to my room directly after this to do just that."

"Then hurry it up," Beyond said. "The sooner this whole nightmare comes to an end the better."

Near gave a nod of agreement. "I'll see you soon, Beyond. For now, there's a message I have to record."

†††

A few hours later, L's phone rang. The detective was quite puzzled at first, remembering that this particular phone was one that only Watari knew the number to. Why would his old mentor be calling him? But then he realized that, considering all he'd done, it was most likely not Watari, but Near, Mello, Beyond, or one of the other numerous people that would no doubt be after him. Sure enough, when he answered it he found himself speaking with Near.

_"Hello, L,"_ the message began.

"Near," L started, "just what do you think you're—"

_"I am sending you this message for reasons that I'm sure are quite obvious."_

He frowned. So, the message had been prerecorded. He couldn't actually speak to Near.

_"But just in case it's slipped your mind, allow me to remind you. Over a week ago, you went to Japan in order to rescue Light Yagami's family. While there, you participated in the murder of his family, and upon returning, you nearly killed the last surviving member of the Yagami family in a fit of rage. After that, fearing capture, you fled the scene and are currently taking refuge somewhere in the surrounding countryside."_

Near knew about Light's family. How inconvenient.

_"This leaves us in a very interesting situation. I know of your recent crimes and am honor bound to bring you in, and I am currently in possession of something very important to you."_

_Light…_ L bit back a hiss of anger at the thought of his lover being kept prisoner by his treacherous successor.

_"Let me emphasize that nothing has been done to Light. He's still recovering from your rather brutal attack, and I've asked someone to watch over him to make sure that he comes to no further harm. He will be safe with me. But I'm sure that you don't believe me, and that you'd like to get him back. For that purpose, I'd like to propose a meeting."_

His stomach dropped. He should have guessed that Near would request a meeting. His successor would no doubt be aiming to take him down, while L would have the sole motivation of rescuing Light from his imprisonment and slaughtering all those in his path.

_"I'm sure you've already guessed the purpose of this meeting, but I'll be perfectly frank. I will be attempting to capture you and bring you to justice, while you no doubt attempt to kill us and get Light back. I understand that you probably suspect that I'll set a trap for you, so allow me to make a proposition. So long as you agree to meet me, I'll promise that our meeting will be on equal grounds, with no trickery from me. You will choose the time and location, and I will allow you to search the premises beforehand to assure yourself that I haven't planted officers in order to capture you unfairly. That should be enough to reassure you. And if it isn't, then by all means, make any request that will convince you of my sincerity. I expect you to respond to this message with a time and location within twenty-four hours. If not, I'll assume that you've chosen to leave Light in my hands. If that is the case, then you don't have to worry—I'll make sure nothing happens to him. In fact, Beyond has already offered to take him in."_

_That bastard!_ L ground his teeth together furiously. _There's no way I'll let him take Light away from me!_

_"Oh,"_ Near drawled, _"and there's one last thing that I want you to know before we meet. You know about the Death Note, do you not?"_

L's blood ran cold. The Death Note…did this mean that Near was—?

_"I have to admit, I've debated telling you this. But it feels cheap not to give you all of the information before we come face to face once again. So I'll tell you. Back when you were in Japan, back before you returned to Wammy's House, I suspected that Kira was working out of Japan. I sent Beyond to investigate, and he found something very interesting. Specifically, he found a notebook buried beneath a felled tree in a forest beside the house of a high school student."_

No…if that was true, then…

_"Naturally, Beyond reported back to England and gave the notebook to me. And around that time, I came to realize that I'd already figured out Kira's identity, even if I didn't wish to acknowledge it. So, L, I'll give you a tidbit of information that you may find useful. I know that you're Kira. I know that you roped Light into your schemes. And I just so happen to have one of your murder weapons."_ A huff of light laughter sounded through the receiver. _"With that being said, I suppose that our meeting really will be on equal grounds. We both have Death Notes, after all—and Beyond tells me that Light knows your true name. Keep that in mind before you attempt to deceive us."_

_That little bastard. How dare he—?_

_"I await your response. Good day."_

The voice went silent, and L knew that the message had ended. He was left standing silently in the bedroom of the abandoned house he was staying in, one hand clenched tightly around his phone. So this was Near's plan? One last fight on equal grounds, in which Near went after his head and he went after Light and the missing Death Note? Well, that was fine by him. He would come out on top. He'd always been more intelligent than Near, and this situation granted no exception. He would devise a plan and outsmart his successor, getting Light back in the process.

_It doesn't matter if you know I'm Kira,_ L thought. _And it doesn't matter that you have a Death Note. I know you, Near, and I know that you don't resort to killing people. You'd much rather use your mind to take down your opponents. Therefore, my willingness to kill will give me an edge. I can win. I can beat you._

It was really a shame that Near had learned that he was Kira. though. After all, there was a distinct possibility that he'd told not only his other successors of his true identity, but any number of students in the orphanage. No one could know that L was Kira, no one except for Light—and so everyone that could even _possibly_ know of his identity would have to go. Hmm…perhaps he could use this opportunity to wipe all of Wammy's House out. He'd never liked the little brats, not after the events of his past, and he'd always been looking for an opportunity to end them. The possibility that they knew he was Kira was just the opening he needed. And what was more, this was for the good of preserving Kira's reign. If anyone was going to take down Kira, be it now or sometime in the distant future, it would no doubt be one of the geniuses from Wammy's House. If L took them all out now, there wouldn't be a risk of anyone getting the best of him. It was the smart thing to do.

But he couldn't focus on that just yet. For now, he needed to concentrate his energies on taking care of Near. And to do that, he needed a plan.

Luckily, he already knew exactly what he needed to do.

†††

Not long after that, Near received a response from L. It was an audio message just like his, recorded in a similar fashion.

_"Near,"_ the message began. _"I'll make this brief. First off, the time and location. If you truly wish to go through with this confrontation, then our meeting will take place at midnight three days from now. As for the location, about twenty miles from the orphanage there exists an abandoned farmhouse. It isn't where I've been staying, so there's no point in attempting to search for me. I've sent the coordinates to you via email. I expect you to be there on time."_

So far so good. L's choice of location was strange, but something Near could work with.

_"Now then, I have a few stipulations. I think you'll agree that this will make things more equal for us. First of all, I'm taking the liberty of searching the surrounding area to make sure you haven't planted any of your little drones to arrest me. I'm sure that won't be too much of a problem, assuming that you keep your word. Next, I have two requests that absolutely_ must _be met in order for this meeting to take place. I will not go to the location without your word that these conditions will be fulfilled. First off, Light must be there. I refuse to take the chance that you'll have ordered one of your officers to kill Light if you fail to return. Second, I expect you to bring the Death Note—but you cannot be the one holding it. I would ask that you hand it over to Light and make sure that it does not leave his possession. So long as you respond to confirm my requests, I will have no problems with meeting you at the assigned time and location. Until then, I bid you farewell."_

The line went dead, and Near's room was filled with silence. Across from him, Mello, Matt, and Beyond, who had heard the entire message, waited for his reaction.

Near remained silent as he stared down at his phone. "Hmm…"

"That's it?" Mello burst out, able to keep silent no longer. He was terribly impatient. "Come on, what did you think of L's message? Are you going to agree to his terms?"

Beyond looked troubled. "I don't like the idea of Light being there," he said. "He's been through enough without having to watch what happens in that farmhouse. And besides, it could be dangerous."

"Yes," Near murmured, "but L will refuse to meet us if we don't bring him there along with the Death Note. He's cornered us, I'm afraid."

Beyond looked away bitterly. "He's still weak. L should understand that."

"He won't. You must understand, he believes that he will be able to kill us all and take Light with him. For that, he would risk causing him a little discomfort."

"So you plan to agree?" Beyond asked. "Surely you're aware that you're bringing L exactly what he wants. If he manages to kill us, he'll have both Light and the only other Death Note in the human world. He'll be unstoppable."

Near's lips curved upwards minutely. "That's not going to happen."

"Oh yeah?" Mello scoffed. "And just what makes you think that?"

His smirk grew. "Because," he said. "I know exactly what L is planning."

Three pairs of eyes shot to him curiously. "And just what is that?" Beyond questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" Near twirled a lock of hair between two fingers. "Just look at what L's asking for. He wants Light to come with us, Death Note in hand. That alone should be enough to give it away."

Mello was the first to understand. His eyes went wide, expression twisting into one of shock as he gasped, "There's no way…you don't think—?"

"That L is going to ask Light to use the eyes and the Death Note to kill us? Yes, that's exactly what I think."

Beyond raised a brow. "That's an interesting theory. It's completely out of the picture for L to take the eyes himself, but he needs our true names to kill us. For that purpose, Light is the only one he can use. And if he has the Death Note in his possession, then it wouldn't be difficult to write our names and doom us."

"Do you think he'll do it?" Mello asked. "It could be a huge problem if he decides to go back to L."

"We should tell him beforehand," Beyond agreed. "We could convince him to stay by our side when L asks him to kill us. I don't think it will take more than a simple question; he's already prepared to do what he has to against L."

"No," Near said firmly. "We will tell Light nothing."

"Seriously?" Mello protested. "Come on, snowflake, what are you thinking? If we say nothing, then there's a chance that Light will choose L over us!"

Near shook his head. "There is no chance of that happening."

"How do you figure?"

"Just think about it; put yourself in Light's shoes. The former lover that killed your family, your friends, the task force, and then nearly killed _you_ is standing in front of you and asking you to slaughter the people who took you in and cared for you after the heartbreaking betrayal you endured. What do you do?"

Mello's eyes narrowed slightly. "You have a point, but we still can't be sure that he'll act in our favor."

"If that's not enough, then consider his nature. He only continued killing because L wanted him to. He tried to keep L from murdering innocent people. And we, in case you've forgotten, are innocent people—with the exception of you, Beyond, but he seems to enjoy your company too much to kill you. With that in mind, look at the situation again. Who does Light side with?"

"He'll side with us," Beyond cut in determinedly. "And even if he doesn't, he'll be momentarily shocked. We can take the notebook from him if it looks like he's about to follow L's orders. He'll be weak and unarmed, after all."

"It may not be that simple," Mello pointed out. "L will most likely dream up some way of making sure we _can't_ take the notebook from him. We'll have to be prepared for the worst."

Beyond nodded. "Agreed. And although I feel confident that Light will choose us, I don't like the idea of putting him in danger like this."

Near assured him, "Don't worry. My plan will work, and it will work _best_ if Light isn't told ahead of time. Consider it a final test, if you will, to make sure he's really prepared to leave his life as Kira behind."

"And just what is your plan?" Mello asked. "You told us that you had one, but you never explained it."

"That's because there's not much that needs explaining," Near said. "To be honest, I knew from the beginning that L was going to ask that Light attend our meeting—and that's what I was counting on for my plan. I needed Light to be there, but I knew that it had to look like L's idea."

"You tricked him," Beyond realized, a small smile appearing on his face. "Very clever, snowflake."

Near nodded. "It's crucial that Light be there, for he is the person that is going to bring L down, even if he doesn't know it."

"We don't have all day," Mello scoffed. "Explain your brilliant strategy already."

"Be patient," Near scowled. "Like Beyond pointed out earlier, L is never going to hand himself over willingly. That's why we're going to use Light to _make_ him hand himself over."

"We've already been over this," Beyond scoffed. "L won't hand himself over for Light."

"No," Near agreed, "but using Light, we can maneuver L into a situation in which he has no choice but to either surrender or to be taken by force. As I explained, L's strategy hinges on the assumption that Light values their relationship more than his morals. As of now, he still has hope that Light will come back to him, which is the only reason he's agreeing to this meeting in the first place. As Light said, L doesn't seem to realize that he's done anything wrong. I'd bet that L is planning on trying to explain his actions to Light during the meeting, and I'd also bet that L thinks that his explanation will be enough to make him turn on us. He's entirely confident that Light will come over to his side and kill all of us, which makes me think that it's unlikely he'll take any other measures to make sure things go his way. He's cocky and arrogant, and it's going to be his downfall. If and when he fails to use Light as a weapon, he'll be defenseless. Not only will he be unable to kill us, but he'll be crushed emotionally. The combination of physical helplessness and mental trauma will make him weak, susceptible to suggestion and open to our influence. Or more specifically, to Light's influence."

"Light will try to convince him to give up," Beyond realized. "And in his weakened state, you think that L will give in."

"In the best case scenario? Yes. But should Light fail to convince L to give up, our purpose will still have been achieved. At that point, with L defenseless and emotionally devastated, it will be easy to physically subdue him. That task will fall to you, Beyond. I'd advise you to have a pair of handcuffs handy."

The man dipped his head in agreement. "Of course. And if something goes wrong and it appears as if L is going to find a way to kill us, I'll take him down without question."

Near opened his mouth to respond, but Mello cut him off. "Wait a second," he said. "That's all good and well, but what will we do after we've captured L? I mean, what will happen to the Death Notes? Do we destroy them, burn them, shred them…?"

"We won't destroy them," Near said firmly. "As it so happens, I plan to give them back to the shinigami who originally dropped them here. There will be no more notebooks in the human world."

He was referring to Ryuk, of course. The shinigami had told him once that he had only appeared in the human realm in order to retrieve the notebooks held by L and Light—though at the time, he had no idea that L was the one who held one of the notebooks he sought. If Near gave the notebooks back to him once he'd recovered them, the shinigami had sworn to leave the human realm—at least for now. And as vague and open ended that promise was, it was the best Near was going to get. Once he retrieved the notebooks, he would give them to Ryuk and be rid of the shinigami forever, or otherwise Ryuk wouldn't hesitate to kill them all.

Beyond sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "What a headache. But still, I agree that that is the best option. We need to get rid of them, preferably without being killed in the process, and giving them to the shinigami is the only way to achieve that."

"Well," Mello said, "I can't say that the idea appeals to me. But if you two think it's the best thing to do, then I won't go against you."

Near raised a brow at the fiery-tempered teen. "You're not going against me? What a surprise."

Mello fixed him with a serious gaze. "This is far too dire a situation for me to go against you. Our lives are at stake, as are the lives of thousands of Kira's future victims."

At least he understood. "Thank you," Near said quietly. "I appreciate your—"

"Yeah, yeah," Mello grumbled, looking away. "Don't dwell on it; it won't happen again."

The corners of Near's lips quirked upwards. "Very well. If the two of you have no other questions, then we should part ways now. Beyond, you need to tell Light about as much of our plan as is necessary."

The man nodded dutifully. "No problem. I'll explain everything to him and make sure nothing happens in the three days before the confrontation." He pushed himself off the bed he'd been sitting on and headed for the door. "See you guys later."

Near called out a faint farewell before turning to Mello. "We'll meet here at nine o'clock in the evening in three days. Don't be late."

"Not a problem," Mello responded. He too rose from his bed, turning his head towards Matt. The teen hadn't spoken or moved since the conversation began, doing nothing but mashing his fingers at the buttons of his handheld gaming device. "You coming, Matt?"

The teen gave a distracted nod, nearly tripping over the clutter on the ground as he tried to reach the door without looking up.

Mello rolled his eyes and took Matt by the arm, leading him towards the exit. "Come on, you idiot. Let's go."

Near watched them leave. In three days, it would all come to an end. And in that time, there was much that he had to do.

It was time to get started.

†††

Three days passed with surprising speed, even for Light. The teen spent all of his time cooped up in the infirmary, with Beyond keeping watch almost constantly at his side. And despite his initial assumption that having Beyond at his side constantly would be terribly annoying, he actually enjoyed the company. Their conversations were a pleasant reprieve from the nightmares. But it was never long before he fell back asleep and was forced to relive everything that had happened recently. And now, there was something new to add to the equation—Near's plan.

Light remembered the exact moment when Beyond had walked into the infirmary, a grim look on his face, and told him exactly what Near's plan was and what his role in it would be. What Near was asking him to do…it made his gut twist. He hated the thought that he would be forced to confront L and tempt him to turn himself over. He would be the key to breaking L down, to shattering his will to continue—and that alone was enough to fuel his nightmares for hours upon hours. And what was more, he knew that he hadn't been told the whole plan. There were gaps, spaces where he knew there should have been explanations. But no matter what he said, Beyond was never willing to tell him. The man simply told him that he should trust Near, and that it was better if he didn't know what was going to happen. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would be expected to break L.

That thought was the only thing that occupied his mind for much of the three days he was forced to wait. Even when Beyond tried to coax him into conversations of a lighter nature, Light's thoughts always gravitated back to that terrible fact. It consumed his every waking moment, and then seeped into his dreams. And yet, no matter how terrible it was, he knew that it was his duty.

Light had allowed L to run rampant, killing whoever he wanted without protest. He hadn't been the one to write their names, the names of the now dead criminals who hadn't deserved their punishment, but he'd still played a hand in their deaths. If he'd noticed it earlier, stopped L before he spun out of control, then they would still be alive. His parents would still be alive. His friends would still be alive. His _sister_ would still be alive. He'd caused their deaths, all of them—and now it was time to pay the price. He would bear this pain, however terrible it was, so long as it meant that L would be stopped. He would put his heart, his life, his _everything_ on the line. And hopefully, when all was said and done, he would come away from the situation with L safely captured. The detective would be punished for all that he had done, and Light planned to be there to see it. He would make sure that his former friend was sentenced justly.

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard the infirmary door open, and he was faced with Beyond standing in the doorway. The man had stepped out for a moment for unknown reasons, but he'd returned promptly. "Hey there," he greeted, moving no further into the room.

"Beyond?" Light questioned in return. "What's going on?"

Beyond stared at him. "I told you a few hours ago, princess. Our three days are up. It's time."

Light stared blankly. Then his heart dropped as Beyond's words sank in. That's right…he'd been in such a haze that he'd completely forgotten. As he'd said, their three days were up. L would be waiting, and it was time for them to meet him. It was time for Light to play his part.

"Princess?" Beyond whispered, stepping into the room. "Are you okay? I know this is hard, but—"

"No, Beyond," Light rasped. "This is something that I have to do, no matter how much it hurts."

The man's gaze softened. "I'm sorry that you have to do this. It's something that no one should be expected to do."

Light forced himself to smile, though it was stiff and humorless. "Don't worry about me. I'll play my part."

Beyond moved further into the room, taking Light by the hand and helping him up off the bed. "You don't have anything to worry about," he assured him gently. "If L tries anything, we'll be right there to stop him. I won't let anything happen to you."

It made him feel better, if only by a bit. "Thank you," he responded quietly. "It's good to know someone has my back."

Beyond tugged him towards the door gently, saying, "Come on. Near, Matt, and Mello are waiting."

The teen forced his numb limbs to listen to him, carrying him forward. So much had happened, he realized, to get him to this point. He couldn't help but laugh, thinking of the way he'd started out—an innocent high school student, barely aware of what was really going on around him, hoping to make the world a better place by killing those who deserved it. It was hard to believe that there'd been a time when he wasn't even sure if the Death Note was real. That time seemed so far away now…as if it had never really existed. He'd been so happy for a time, so ignorant. When he'd met L, he'd had no idea that he was meeting the person who would ruin him. They'd spent so long together, fought so hard before the claws of fate ripped them apart. And now, after all this time, both of them were finally going to pay for their transgressions. Perhaps this was what came of their attempts to alter their future—their punishment for interfering with the mechanisms of fate.

"Are you coming?" Beyond asked, having released his hand and walked to the doorway.

Light shook his head to clear it of such thoughts, looking up and forcing a smile. "I'm with you," he said. "Let's go, Beyond."

The man gave him a soft look before nodding and starting off down the hallway. Still in the infirmary, Light watched him for a brief moment. _I guess it's really time. L…we'll see each other again soon._

He steeled himself, fingers clenched into determined fists at his sides, and walked out of the infirmary to meet his destiny.


	40. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it...the climax of the story. And with a chapter name like that, what could go wrong?

When Light stepped out of the van they'd taken to the site of the meeting, he was surprised to find himself staring at an old, beat down barn. Near had told him that the confrontation would take place in a barn L had chosen, but he hadn't expected it to be quite this decrepit. The entire place looked like it was about to fall over.

"This is hardly an ideal meeting place," Beyond pointed out as they walked towards the structure. His eyes were darting about nervously to make sure L wasn't lurking around, and he hadn't allowed Light to get more than three feet from him since they'd gotten out of the car that had taken them there. Mello had been the driver, and it had left all of them a bit rattled. The teen, genius though he may have been, wasn't the best driver.

"No kidding," Mello grumbled. He too was looking around restlessly. "This place doesn't look suited for this meeting."

Light had to agree with him. The old barn was made of clearly rotting wooden planks, with some of said planks hanging at odd angles or ripped off completely to form an odd sort of window into the interior of the building. The land around it, though once used to grow crops, was now dusty and barren. Dried weeds crunched beneath their feet as they headed for the decaying entrance, emphasizing the utter abandonment of the place. He could only imagine what was waiting for them inside.

Near didn't look any more pleased than the rest of them. "No matter how run down this place is, it's the location L has chosen. We should be on our guard; I'm sure that he hasn't left this meeting up to fate."

"We already know his plan," Beyond pointed out, "and there are security cameras hidden everywhere. What are you so concerned about?"

"The unknown," was the simple response. "To be perfectly honest, I'm afraid that I've missed something. There's this nagging feeling in the back of my mind…"

Beyond snorted. "Oh, can it, snowflake. There's no point in worrying about something that might not even happen."

The white-haired teen still looked troubled. "Yes, but still…" He trailed off, glancing up at the barn. They were nearly at the entrance. "Something about this situation unnerves me."

Light was in complete agreement. Of course, that was most likely because he knew he was about to betray L in the worst way possible. He was about to get his former lover caught, and he had no idea what would come of it. The mere thought of such a thing made him feel sick to his stomach, not to mention the sick feeling already pooling in his heart. It was an ill, muddled feeling—the result of caring for someone who had done terrible things, and knowing that he shouldn't. After all he'd been through, he knew that he should get as far away from L as possible. And yet here he was, willingly going to a meeting in which the loss of life was entirely possible. If he knew L, the detective would have a plan. And that plan would most likely involve the deaths of everyone except for the two of them.

"Matt, you're falling behind," Mello sighed, grabbing the teen by the hand and pulling him closer. "Honestly, did you have to bring that thing with you?"

Matt didn't even glance away from his game. "Yep."

Mello rolled his eyes, groaning, "You're impossible. Why can't you just—?"

"Be quiet!" Beyond hissed, glaring back at them in irritation.

Light was so busy watching the exchange that he almost didn't notice that they'd reached the door. The team of five found themselves staring at the rotting wooden planks that made up the door.

"You think he's in there already?" Mello questioned, keen blue eyes locking onto the door. "He could be waiting to kill us the instant we walk in."

"That's unlikely." Near reached out and placed the palm of his hand against the door, preparing to open it. "L will be scoping out the surrounding area, which means that there's no way he'll be inside just yet."

"Let's hope he sticks to his word," Mello grumbled. He shuffled his feet, and dust flew up into the air. "And let's hope that there's a light source inside the barn. It's dark as hell out here."

Near ignored him. "Beyond, you are the only one among us that's armed. I'm counting on you to protect us. Is that clear?"

"Of course, snowflake."

"Good. In that case…" Near pushed slightly, and the door swung open a few inches. "Let's make this quick."

†††

Not far away, L watched as Near and his team pulled up beside the barn in an armored truck. He observed carefully from the shadows of the surrounding trees as five shaded figures emerged from the truck and began heading for the farmhouse. It was a dark night—the moon was a mere sliver in the sky—so he couldn't quite make out who was who. With that being said, though, he had a few guesses. The one whose face was basked in the glow of a handheld gaming device was obviously Matt, and the one hanging on his arm was clearly Mello. Near's white pajamas gave him away, and Beyond's eyes glinted red, even in the low light. The only one remaining, the one clutching something in his hands, had to be Light.

L's gaze softened as he watched the teen approach the building. He was visibly nervous, glancing about to make sure no one was sneaking up to attack him. And when he turned, the faint light of the moon reflected slightly off the white lettering on the notebook he was holding. It was the Death Note, no doubt. The one Near had stolen from him. Did that mean that Ryuk was near? L hadn't seen the shinigami, though he had to be somewhere around the barn if that was where his Death Note was. He wondered if he'd finally get to meet the mysterious shinigami.

Voices reached his ears, floating across the field to his waiting ears. They'd reached the entrance to the barn, and the shadow dressed in white was reaching out and pushing on the decaying wooden door. So, then…it was show time.

L slipped from the shadows and drifted towards the building, eyes constantly searching out anyone that might have been waiting to capture him. He'd already swept the surrounding area, and all that was left to check was the van. And after a brief search, he discovered that Near had indeed kept his word—he hadn't posted any officers in the surrounding area. It appeared as if they truly were on equal grounds—or at least, on semi-equal grounds. L had the advantage, of course, due to his complete willingness to dispose of anyone who got in his way. He was going to create the new world, after all—and that meant that he couldn't let anyone stop him. He'd take them all down if necessary.

More voices were floating from the interior of the barn. And now that he'd checked the car, there was no longer any reason for him to put this off.

_Soon, Light,_ he thought, walking towards the barn. _Soon we will be together once again._

†††

The interior of the barn was just as ragged as the outside. From the lamp hanging down from the rickety roof, there was just enough light by which to look around the tiny room. The floor was nothing but dirt and gravel, and there were no structures to speak of. In fact, the entire structure was completely empty save for a ladder against the far wall that led up into a hayloft. It was far too dark to see what was up there.

"Well this is a letdown," Mello muttered. "It's so beat up."

"It's strange," Beyond agreed. "I half thought that L would have a trap set for us."

Near shook his head. "He's already set his trap," he said. "He's lurking just around the corner, waiting to spring it on us."

Light gulped nervously, eyes flitting about the room. Where was L? He was supposed to be here, so—

"You think too highly of me," a voice drawled from the doorway. "Near."

A tense silence overtook them immediately. The door had been flung open wide, a dark figure standing in the doorway. The dull light coming from the ceiling lamp was the only illumination provided—but it was more than enough to see the face of the person before them.

"L," Near greeted coolly. "You have my thanks for meeting us here. I half expected you to run."

The shadow stepped further into the room, inching just a little bit closer. "I'm no coward."

"Personally, I'd much rather resort to cowardice than accept an avoidable demise."

"Then you're more of a weakling than I thought you were," was the answering snarl. The shadow stepped closer, and the light completely illuminated him. And Light, for the first time in a week, found himself staring directly at the person that had taken his family from him.

L looked bad. Light wasn't sure what he'd been up to in the week since he'd run away, but it couldn't have had a good effect on him. The detective had bags under his eyes, bags that Light hadn't seen since the month after their first meeting. He'd been swift to erase those bags by making L sleep more than usual, but now they were back full force. And of course, another sign of the detective's deterioration was the near translucency of his skin. It had always been bad, but it seemed especially dire in the dull lighting of the barn. He even appeared thinner than usual, his clothing hanging off him at odd angles. His face looked gaunt.

L's gaze drifted from Near to Mello. "And you're just as bad," he continued, acting as if Light didn't exist. "Teaming up with someone you hate? And what's more, you've dragged Matt into this." He turned his glare on the youngest of his successors, who had finally put his game away in favor of staring at L in surprise. "Why are you here? You've never been able to focus on anything but your silly little games. This isn't the place for you."

Light felt a pang of alarm at his lover's cold tone. Was this even still _L?_ Was there anything left?

Now L turned his attention to Beyond. "And _you,"_ he hissed, his expression twisting hatefully. "You have no right to challenge me like this, not after what you did!"

Beyond matched the hateful glare with one of his own. "If you're referring to A, then it's _you_ that has no right to challenge _me._ "

Was this how it had always been between them? Had they been at each other's throat this whole time, with Light never noticing due to his ignorance on the subject of their history? His heart constricted painfully at the thought, and he waited breathlessly for L to finally look at him.

It didn't happen. L didn't even glance his way, turning his gaze back on Near and drawling, "So, should we begin? You want to capture me, correct?"

Near too seemed a bit puzzled with the situation. "Wouldn't you like to check that your conditions have been met?"

The detective still didn't look at Light, who had inched forward just a bit. "Fine, then. Present the Death Note."

Near nodded to Light, prompting the teen to shuffle forward just a bit more and hold up the Death Note.

L spared him only a brief look, not a spark of recognition in his eyes. "Very good. If you're satisfied, then let us continue. As I was saying, I—"

"L!" Light choked out, lurching forward a few steps. "L, look at me!"

There was a tense moment of silence. Then L raised his head, finally locking eyes with his former lover. Light searched hard within those obsidian orbs, desperate to find a shred of remorse, of love, of _anything._ And for a terrifying moment, he was unable to see anything but emptiness. It was like peering off the edge of the abyss. But then he saw it. Behind that stony exterior, behind his cold persona, he saw just a flicker of the person he'd once loved. A hint of softness, a trace of affection, all packaged into the two chips of flint that made up L's eyes. Something, then, was left of the L that he'd spent so much time with. Something was left, a ghost of a person that may never have existed in the first place. Was it even possible to reach that flicker, nurse it back to life until L was the person he'd once pretended to be? Perhaps there was—but to find out for sure, he was going to have to betray him and let Near capture him.

"Light," L greeted, and his voice was slightly strained.

"L…" the teen repeated, a lump in his throat. "Are you…?" He trailed off awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

The detective nodded. "I've been quite well. I've been working to make the world a better place."

Another pang of grief assaulted him. "Is that what you're doing?" he rasped. "Making the world a better place by killing people who don't deserve it?"

"I'm saving lives," L hissed, eyes flashing. "I've begun killing them all, Light. It's only been a week since our last meeting, but I've already eliminated much of the trash that has come to pollute this world."

Light's throat began to close up. "Trash? Is that what you see them as? Is that what you saw my _family_ as?"

"That's all that they were!" L spat. "They would have hurt you in the end. All I did was remove the threat before it had a chance to harm you!"

"I already told you, L…your family is _supposed_ to hurt you, and you're supposed to take it and _deal_ with it. They're your family—you're supposed to do anything and everything to protect them."

"And that's what I did," was L's response. "I protected you—the closest thing to family I have. I protected you by eliminating your family."

Just as Light's eyes began to burn, Beyond stepped in. The man inched in front of Light determinedly, snapping, "You were wrong, L. You were wrong when you killed A, and you were wrong when you killed Light's family. What did you think, that you could kill them and he'd just come running right back to you?"

L sneered. "He should be thanking me for setting him free. If his family had lived, they would only have caused him pain."

He was a broken record, Light realized, and it made his heart ache. "I gave half my life to save them," he reminded the detective. "I gave half my life, and you killed them."

Another angry sneer. "You broke your promise. If you'd kept it, you would never have bargained away half your life, and you would have been free."

"I had to _watch_ you kill them!" Light burst out.

The detective's words died in his throat, head snapping away guiltily. "I…"

"I wanted to watch the mission," the teen spat. "I wanted to watch over you and make sure that nothing happened to my family. I watched every minute of what went down. And as a result, I was watching when you _killed_ them! What do you think that _did_ to me, you bastard?"

The detective stared in shock. "Light…"

Was that a flicker of remorse? He longed to believe that it was. But even if he was correct and L _did_ feel something, he knew that it wasn't because he'd killed his family—it was because he'd hurt him in doing so. L had hurt him terribly, and he didn't even seem to fully realize the impact of his actions.

The furious expression on L's face softened slightly. "I never wanted to hurt you," he attempted. "I simply understood that getting rid of your family would cause you less pain in the future. In time, you'll come to appreciate what I've done."

No, he wasn't remorseful—not in the least. "It was wrong, L. You killed my family, and then you attempted to kill me."

The detective winced. "I'm truly sorry for attempting to kill you. I was blinded by anger. But I will never be sorry for getting rid of the people that would have caused you so much heartache, and forgiving you for what _you_ did is impossible."

So that was it, then. Would Light ever be able to convince L that what he'd done was wrong? Would he even get the chance?

Once again, Beyond was the one that saved him. "Pull your head out of your ass, you moron!" he snapped. "You're being selfish!"

Glaring, L spat, "You're the selfish one, holding him hostage like this! Just what have you been doing to him in my absence?"

"I've taken care of him," Beyond hissed, "which is more than you ever managed to do."

_No…_ Light looked between the two frantically. _Please don't fight…_

L glared at the ground. "I've done more for him than you ever did."

"Like hell! You've treated him like a possession, not a person!"

"And what exactly have you done to help him? All you ever did was sit around and watch everything play out!"

"Yeah? Well at least I wasn't actively harming him!"

A furious snarl split the air. "You're wrong! You hurt him just as much as I did, and look where it got us!"

"If you'd never pulled that knife on him—"

"If you hadn't pushed my hand aside—"

"He'd still be alive!"

The two geniuses fell silent, staring at each other as their chests heaved in unison. Neither was sure when it had happened, but the identity of the person they were speaking of had changed.

They were still fighting about A, all these years after his death.

"Enough," L seethed. "I refuse to listen to this any longer. Soon you'll be dead, and I won't have to deal with your boundless accusations any longer."

"Boundless? You _murdered—!"_

"I said _enough!"_ L's head swung to Light, eyes fierce and determined. "Light, it's time for us to end this, now!"

The teen felt his heart skip a beat. This was it—L was about to make his play. Slightly behind him, he could feel the eyes of the successors burning holes into his back. They had no purpose in being here but to oversee. They could do nothing but watch the show.

L took a large step forward, holding a hand out imploringly. "Come with me, Light. That's why I came here tonight—to get you back. So take my hand, and we can work together to make this world a better place."

"L, I…"

"You broke your promise, and I'm mad at you for that, but I'm willing to forgive you if you come back to me. You may have betrayed my trust, but now you have the eyes. You can use them to help me, and together we'll be unstoppable."

It all sounded so familiar. Where had he heard it before?

"We can do this together, Light, but I'll need you to do something for me first. If we want to be together again, we need to kill everyone who knows our identities. That means that everyone in this room will have to die. You understand, don't you? You have the eyes, and I've made sure that you have the notebook. All you have to do is write their names. You can see them, can't you?"

He could. When Light swung his gaze over his companions, he could see each of their names written above their heads in scarlet letters. Below that, he could see their lifespans. If he wrote their names now they would die, and he could return to L's side. And for one, terrifying moment, he sincerely considered it.

But in the end, he knew that it was far too late for that.

"Light?" L questioned quietly, confidently. "Just kill them all, and we can be together forever. Just kill them, and I'll love you forever. We can work together for all the time we have left."

The teen slowly looked down at the notebook in his hands. He found himself opening it, running his fingertips across the pages that had held the story that had started this whole mess. Then he flipped the pages further, and found the dozens and dozens of pages containing the names of criminals. Further still brought him to the notebook's blank pages, and he scored his nails across the material lightly. If he wanted to, he could do it. He could write a single name and end all of this.

_L Lawliet._

He could see it floating above L's head, directly above where his lifespan should have been. If he just wrote that name down, it would all end. He was sure that L had his Death Notes on him. If he just killed him, he could return the notebooks to Ryuk and be rid of this nightmare. One name, one life, would restore balance to a world at war. If he just wrote that one name in his notebook, he could save thousands of lives. He almost did it, too—he was bringing his finger to his teeth, ready to draw blood and use it to write L's name, when he realized just what he was doing. This logic…the concept of killing one person to save thousands…it was exactly what had gotten them into this situation in the first place. That very first criminal Light had killed had been for that same reason—and the same could be said of L. If not for the concept of saving lives by killing criminals, all of this could have been avoided.

He could feel Near staring at him intently. It seemed that even after all he'd done, Near still didn't trust him to make the right choice. He was expecting, at least to some degree, for Light to turn on him and return to L.

"Just write their names," L urged quietly. "All you have to do is write."

Except it _wasn't_ just writing. If he etched those names into the Death Note, he would be killing the people who had taken him in and kept him safe after L's violent attempt to end his life. If Beyond hadn't found him, he would have died. If Near hadn't trusted him, he would be awaiting execution after his trial. Without Matt, he wouldn't have been able to see L's treachery with his own eyes. And Mello—well, the teen hadn't exactly done him any favors, but he wasn't keen to kill him. He didn't want to betray L. But in the end, it would be his only choice.

"I'm sorry," Light whispered, closing the Death Note. "But I'm not going to let you do this any longer. There's been enough destruction. Enough death."

L recoiled as if he'd been struck. "What are you talking about? We can create our perfect world! The world we've dreamed of!"

"I dreamed of a perfect world," Light responded, gaze turned towards the ground. "One where justice was swift and unrelenting, but fair and kind to those undeserving of punishment. Not this. Whatever this is, I want no part in it." He raised his head, looking L in the eye stoically. "You've become Kira, L. The Kira we feared and tried to hard to avoid."

"No!" L gasped, a horrified look on his face. "I haven't become Kira! I'm the avenging angel, the savior of this world!"

"Savior? Avenging angel?" Light's eyes were beginning to burn again, and he cursed his volatile emotions. "Do you hear yourself? Do you see the monster you've become? How can you call yourself the savior of this world when you've singlehandedly slaughtered a significant portion of its population?"

"They were evil," L insisted. "They deserved death. You agreed with me!"

"I agreed that those who had been rightfully sentenced to death deserved to die!" Light burst out. "Not that you should be able to kill anyone and everyone that _you_ deemed deserving of punishment! That's not justice, L!"

"And what would you have us do? Would you have us wait for the corrupt and immoral justice system to deal with criminals? Would you allow them to let criminals run rampant simply because they had the right connections to escape punishment? Is that your version of a perfect world?"

His chest felt like it was on fire. It wasn't good for him to be experiencing such stressful emotion so soon after his incident. "I don't know what my perfect world is!" he cried. "Our justice system is flawed, L, we know that it is! But instead of mindlessly slaughtering criminals, we should work together to try and make things better!"

"You've become blind. What happened to the Light that was willing to do anything to achieve a perfect world?"

"He never existed," Light realized in a soft tone, his anger draining away abruptly as he filled with a deep weariness. "And that's the truth, isn't it, L? I was never willing to do _anything_ to achieve that world. I never truly believed that the answer laid in the deaths of thousands of criminals. But I still did it, because I believed in you. I wanted to help you. And now…" He chuckled darkly. "Look how far we've come."

L stared, completely speechless.

"A long time ago, you asked me a question. After learning the ending to this little story of ours, you wanted to know if it could be changed. Were our deaths set in stone? Was my descent into evil unavoidable? At the time, we weren't sure. But now, I think I've learned the truth."

There was no response.

Light gazed down at the Death Note sadly. "We were fools to think that we could alter our story. We did so much to change the outcome, to run away from what we believed could be inevitable. But at the termination of this wretched series of events, all we did was drive ourselves closer to our ends."

"What do you mean by that? We've changed fate entirely!"

"No." His voice was soft, head bowed. "We haven't. You're intelligent, L, so think about this carefully. A Death Note is dropped into the human world, and two geniuses clash over its existence. One of them is determined to bring justice upon evildoers through just and pure means, and the other is concerned only with the destruction of every criminal and the creation of a new world. They forge an uneasy friendship that is eventually torn apart, and after that friendship ends, the villain is eventually caught, and he descends into the depths of insanity before following his friend into the afterlife. Does that sound at all familiar, L?"

The detective gave him a blank look.

Light sighed, shaking his head. "Can't you see it? The story hasn't changed. We still have our hero and our villain, the protagonist concerned with justice and the antagonist concerned with the creation of a new world. In the end, nothing has changed."

Still, he saw nothing but confusion. "But _everything_ has changed."

"No, L. When I decided to stop killing every criminal and begin killing only those who deserved it, I tipped the balance. My heart was as good as it could have been under the circumstances, and the two of us began working together. For a while, it worked. We were both pure—or at least, as pure as we could manage to be. But the world couldn't stay out of balance for long. It needed a new villain, and you were the person it chose. You became corrupt. You began making poor choices. You killed my family, and you attempted to kill me—just as I once attempted to kill you."

"You can't possibly think—"

"The world needed balance. A hero for a villain. And so when I set my feet on the righteous path, yours slipped, and you fell into darkness. We've achieved balance, can't you see? A monster has been created in the place of a hero."

"It's a lie!" L insisted. "Beyond is the only monster here!"

Light scowled. "Is that all you care about? It seems like all of this, everything you've done, has been in response to what happened in your past! Am I right? How much of this has been an attempt to right your wrongs?"

"I never committed any—!"

"Did you only take a liking to me because I was like A? Did you feel some sick desire to claim what was taken away from you all those years ago?"

L's expression twisted into one of horror. "No! You're nothing like A!"

Beside him, Beyond snorted. "You're delusional."

Horror melted into fury, and L's head whipped to face Beyond. "Shut your blithering mouth, Beyond! You've done enough already without getting involved in this!"

"I never did anything," Beyond said for the hundredth time. "You're the one that causes disaster wherever you go."

Seeing that L was about to start yelling again, Light was swift to step in. "L," he soothed, choking back his own anger at the situation. "L, just calm down and listen to me."

The detective looked back to him, the angry creases in his face lessening slightly.

Light sucked in a deep breath to calm himself down before continuing. He had to convince L to come back to him, had to say whatever it took to get him to step down. Even if it made him sick, even if it made his stomach churn horribly, he had to do it. If he didn't, he wasn't sure what would happen. "Please look at this logically," he began. "We have ample evidence that you are Kira, and we're fully prepared to report it to the ICPO. On top of that, there's nothing you can do or say that will convince me to turn on my friends and kill them. Therefore, the only thing you can do at this point is come with us peacefully. Resisting now will only prolong your capture."

"Are you being serious?" L laughed darkly, and Light didn't like the look in his eyes. "You want me to give everything up and give myself over to be imprisoned?"

"You're not giving yourself over," Light said carefully. "You're just coming back to me. We can negotiate the rest later, but for now, just come with me. Please, L!" He reached out his hand, the mirror image of what L had done for him just a few minutes prior. "We can be together again. We can figure something out, something that will let us stay together and work to make this world better."

"Not without the Death Note," L insisted. "What we're doing isn't wrong, it's justice! We shouldn't be asked to give up the Death Note just because a group of closed-minded individuals refuse to see the truth."

Something was clawing at the backs of his eyes, at the inside of his chest. "I don't want to do this anymore," he reminded L in a low rasp.

"What?" L's voice was sharp. "You _truly_ don't want to keep improving this world?"

"I do want to keep helping it! But L…I'm tired of this. I'm tired of killing people and trying to justify it, but knowing that it's _never_ been justified. I'm tired of killing _at all."_ He forced himself to meet L's bitter gaze. "I wish I could tell you that if you come with me, we could keep doing exactly what we've been doing all along. But that's not the truth. If you come with me, we won't be using the Death Note any longer. We're going to give them back, L. We're going to get rid of them forever. Once we've done that, we can start working together to create a new world the _right_ way. You may not like it, but it's the right thing to do. And even if it takes a little getting used to, we'll still have each other, right? We'll be together. Isn't that all that matters?" _Together._ His stomach twisted as the word echoed around his head. Could he really ever work with L again? He suspected that the answer was no _._ But if it got L to stand down…

L stared at him for a long moment, expression blank. "You want me to give up our perfect world because you can't stomach using the Death Note any longer…and your method of comforting me after giving up my vision is that at least we'll be together?"

"Well, yes," Light said in a small voice. "Is that not enough for you?"

He received another blank stare. Then, slowly, L's stoic expression began to crack. It started with slight twitching around the corners of the detective's lips. Then creases started to form at his eyes, lips twisting further into a grin as his eyes opened wide. It wasn't long until those normally cool eyes were glazed over in a crazed expression, and a cracking laugh was drawn from his throat.

"L?" Light whispered in confusion. "What…?"

The detective laughed again, arms wrapping around himself. "You honestly think that's enough!"

Light felt as if someone had driven a blade through his heart. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that _nothing_ is more important than the Death Note, nothing at all! If you're planning on getting rid of them, then I'll just have to make sure that you _can't."_

Light stepped back in fright, feeling Beyond bristling in alarm beside him. "L, think about this," he begged in a quiet tone. "You're losing yourself again, can't you see? You're upset, I _know_ you are, but you can't let it consume you!"

"I'm not going to let you ruin this," L snarled. "I won't let you stop me!"

This wasn't going well. The successors, passive up until this point, were all tensing in preparation for a fight. Beyond's hand was on his belt, where Light knew he was keeping his holster.

"Princess," Beyond growled, "get behind me."

The teen was too stunned to respond properly. He couldn't believe that L was this far gone, that he was so determined to create his perfect world that he'd blatantly throw away their lives. "L," he started again, "Just listen to me! Just _listen_ to—!"

But it was far too late for that. For in the singular moment in which Light spoke, L had reached behind his back, and was holding aloft something that changed everything.

It was ironic, really—they'd been so concerned with being killed by the Death Note that they'd forgotten to take precautions against threats of a more tangible nature.

"L," Light whispered, and his voice was wavering terribly. "Put that down."

L did nothing but laugh, and Light felt Beyond tugging at the back of his sleeve. "You need to get behind me _now,"_ the man hissed. "He's not himself at the moment, and you're not safe."

But once again, Light found himself able to do nothing but stare, even as Beyond tugged at him insistently. "Put it down, L," he said again. "Put the gun _down."_

There was no hint of L, no trace of his former persona within those crazed eyes. The detective Light knew was gone, and in his place was something else entirely. The gun he was aiming into the air between Beyond and Light was more than enough to prove it. "Now," L said, sounding rather smug. "I'm going to give you a set of simple instructions, and you're going to follow them."

Out of the corner of his eye, Light saw Beyond's hand inching towards his gun. He'd been too slow—he should have had his gun out the instant things started to go downhill.

"Beyond!" L snapped. "Don't move!"

Beyond froze in place, hand inches from his hidden gun. Then he smirked, flashing L his teeth. "What are you going to do, shoot me? I welcome you to try, L, but I doubt it will end well for you. And what would poor A say if he knew you killed another member of our original team?"

Light knew that Beyond was trying to get a rise out of the detective, which would make his aim sloppy and his actions brash. But L wasn't falling for it. The detective simply laughed in return, his aim true. "I'm not going to shoot you, Beyond. It wouldn't be effective."

"Hmm?" The man appeared confused. "Then who—"

Light understood a moment before Beyond did—but that was probably because he was suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.

"L!" Beyond snapped, beginning to move forward. "What the hell do you think you're—?"

"I wouldn't move if I were you," L drawled.

As Beyond drew to a halt, Light found himself staring blankly at the man that had once been his lover. "L…" he rasped. "Please…"

"Are you really so far gone that you'd hold a gun on the person you love?" Beyond hissed. "No, wait—I'm not surprised. After all, you've done this before."

That eerie smile didn't leave L's face. "It's not a good idea to make me angry right now, Beyond. It's best if you just do as I say, so that we can be out of here as soon as possible."

Beyond leveled a fierce glare at his former friend. "And just what the hell do you want me to do?"

"I want you to step away from Light. Slowly."

A spark of hope flared to life within Light's chest. Did this mean that L was still trying to save him? Was he just trying to get Beyond, someone he saw as dangerous, away from him?

Beyond stalked backwards slowly. "There," he announced once he was several feet away. "Is this good enough for you?"

"For now." L turned his gaze on Light. "There, Light—you're safe now."

"That's good," Light responded carefully. One wrong word could set L off, and there was no telling what he'd do. The best thing he could do now was keep L talking and try to distract him so Beyond could reach his gun. If L had been in his right mind, he would have already told the man to throw his gun away. Luckily, he didn't seem to be thinking clearly. There was still a chance for them. "Do you still need the gun, then?"

"Well, yes." I need you to listen to me, after all."

"I'll listen to you no matter what, L. Just tell me what you're thinking, and I can help you."

The detective's head tilted to one side slightly. "That's good, Light, because I have a bit of a problem. After that speech, I'm not sure I can trust you. What if, after I've retrieved you, you just try to betray me and turn me in? I can't be sure that you're still on my side."

His heart sank. He didn't like where this was going.

"Naturally, I need a way to prove your loyalty to me. And so I've decided what you're going to do." He gestured with the gun to the notebook in Light's hands. "Kill them all. Now."

_I can't kill my friends!_ "And if I refuse?"

"Then clearly you're not the person I fell in love with. I'll kill you."

He'd truly lost it. Light's eyes flickered to Beyond, who was slowly inching his hand back towards his gun. Just a little bit more of a distraction… "Very well," he forced out, hating himself for saying it. "I'll do it. Just give me a moment." He hoped Beyond would understand what he was doing. If he didn't, then he could very well be about to die. The teen opened the notebook slowly and nipped at one finger, drawing blood. Then he pressed his bleeding finger to one of the pages, miming writing as he waited for Beyond to act.

He didn't need to wait long. In a blur of movement nearly too fast to follow, Beyond lunged.

The man lurched forward, shoes striking the ground and drawing L's attention immediately. The detective turned his head, gun wavering slightly from where it was held at Light's head. And Beyond, taking full advantage of the opportunity, threw himself around Light and scrambled forwards.

Light expected him to go straight for L and take his gun away. And so when he found his vision being suddenly obscured by a familiar dark shirt and equally dark hair, he was momentarily confused. Only when it was over, and L's gaze was fixed back firmly on him—or rather, _them_ —did he understand just what Beyond had done.

"So this is your choice?" L questioned, drawing Light's attention. "Have you chosen to die?"

Light couldn't see Beyond's face. All he could see was his back, for when Beyond had moved so suddenly, it had been to press himself in between Light and L—and directly in front of the gun that was being aimed so menacingly in their direction. "I haven't chosen to die," Beyond said, keeping his own gun steadily aimed at L's head. "I've chosen to stop you from doing something you'll regret."

"Move," L said coldly. "You're not the one I'm aiming for."

Beyond shook his head. "After everything we've been through, you haven't learned a thing, have you? I thought that you'd have figured it out by now. But instead, here you are, and you're pointing a gun at the one person you swore to protect."

L didn't even seem to hear him. "I don't want to hurt you like this, but I will. Get out of my way."

Beyond just shook his head. "If you shoot me, I return fire and kill you. What's the point?"

"I told you to step away," L reiterated. "Beyond, do as I say."

"I know you don't want to kill me," Beyond began, and Light suspected that he was either stalling for time or attempting to talk L off the ledge. "We made that pact, remember? We said that we'd never hurt each other physically, never with weapons of a tangible nature. We said we'd use our minds. What's the point in breaking that pact now, L? You could stand here, threatening your lover with death, or you could open your eyes and see that there's no point in fighting this. You can go with us and start over, don't you see? We can figure something out so that the two of you can stay together, and you can keep making the world a better place."

So Beyond was going to lie, then—he'd told Light himself that he had no qualms about breaking his promise to A, and there would be no starting over when L was captured. Beyond was doing the same thing Light was—saying whatever was necessary at the time, knowing that it wasn't the truth.

It seemed to work, though, if only for a moment. There was a slight flicker in L's expression, but it was so quick that he could have imagined it. "I won't ask you again."

"Look at what you've done!" Beyond burst out, his tone growing more urgent. "You killed his family, you moron! You killed his family because you thought it would help him, and then you killed the task force just to eliminate the rest of his connections in Japan! And then, just when it couldn't get any worse, you tried to kill _him._ And yet despite all that, he still cares enough to _not_ want you to die here tonight. He's completely insane if you ask me, but he's always stood by you—even now, when you're holding a gun on him. And you would give all of that up just because you don't want to give up a notebook?"

There was another flicker. Another hint of unreadable emotion. "As _if_ I'm the only one at fault for how things ended with his family, _Beyond."_

"Don't be stupid!" Beyond continued. "You've got someone like A, someone who's willing to stay by your side! You can't ruin this because you're so stubborn that you can't figure out what's important!" His tone softened, posture lessening in severity as he said, "We would have given anything to have stopped what happened to A. And if you keep this up, we could have a repeat of that incident. You can stop that from happening, L, if you just put the gun down and come with us now."

L looked away hesitantly. "I have a responsibility to create a perfect world. I can't throw it all away for a single person."

Light peered out from behind Beyond, calling out, "You don't have to give it up. We can work together, solve cases, put criminals away. All you have to do is trust me."

"Trust you?" L scoffed weakly. "You betrayed me to my successors, and to Beyond. Why should I trust you now?"

Light looked him in the eye, expression solemn. "Because I'm Kira."

L's eyes widened, his features twisting slightly. He was surprised—and he should have been, for despite all their months together, that confession L had originally wanted had never taken place. All their talk of trust, of confessing their identities to each other, had never come to fruition. Light had never really told L that he was Kira, and L had never really told Light that he was L. L had wanted so badly to hear those words from Light's lips, but it had simply never happened.

"And…" The detective broke off, his tone strained. "And I'm L."

His features softened, warmth filling him. "Do you understand, L?" he asked, though he could see in L's face that he did, even as Light's entire body was seized with guilt. "Please, just…trust me."

L's stony expression wavered dramatically, and the gun lowered slightly. "Light…"

The teen stepped out from behind Beyond, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he moved towards his lover. His hands were held out before him, displaying his palms in a peaceful gesture. "It's going to be okay. I promise, L, that this is all going to work out for the better. Nothing will tear us apart, do you hear me?" He was close now, only a few feet away. And then he reached out, cautious of any retaliation, ignoring Beyond's alarmed squawking, and placed his hand gently on the barrel of L's gun. For a moment, nothing happened. L seemed willing to release the gun, and even let Light pull it slightly out of his hand.

But the next moment, L made his choice.

The detective's grip on the gun tightened, and he pushed Light away with his free hand. "Get back," he rasped, though his voice was lifeless. "I won't give it up. I don't care who I have to kill."

Behind him, Beyond raised his voice in alarm. "Princess, get back here!"

The teen couldn't move. He simply stared as L aimed the gun to his forehead—and being in such close proximity, it wasn't long before he could feel cool metal pressing into his flesh. There was no way L could miss.

The two lovers locked eyes, the tension between them thick and unbroken. L's finger was on the trigger, and as Light watched silently, that finger tensed just slightly. L was hesitating. Was there still a chance that…?

"Don't do this," Light whispered, and his entire body thrummed with a mixture of guilt and disgust. "I love you, L."

That got to him. The detective's eyes flashed with pain, and his grip wavered. But it wasn't enough to get him to lower his weapon.

"Princess," Beyond hissed from across the room. "I need you to start backing up slowly, okay? No sudden moves, no more talking. Just move, and don't flinch."

Don't flinch? He could have laughed. He was so terrified right now that he wasn't sure if he could follow such directions. But he knew that if he wanted to keep his life, he didn't have a choice. He took a small step backwards, hoping dearly that his history with L would stop him from shooting. He could barely breathe as he continued to inch backwards, and L continued to watch him silently. The detective was obviously trying to steel himself, and was obviously failing. It seemed as if he just couldn't bring himself to shoot him.

"Good," Beyond whispered. "Now just move to the right a bit. I'll tell you when to stop."

Light obeyed without question. He was only about seven feet from L when he began to move to the right, just barely inching in the correct direction. One wrong move would result in his death, and he was painfully aware of his own demise staring him in the face.

"Stop now," came Beyond's voice. "Don't move, princess. I'll take care of this."

L's eyes hadn't left his lover, and his gun was still pointed straight in front of him. He seemed frozen, unable to move anything but his eyes. "Light…" he rasped, expression pained. He moved towards him slightly, but the gun remained pointed off into the distance.

Light couldn't see Beyond, but he heard a soft click come from his general direction. He frowned, wondering just what the man was up to, and how he planned to get them out of this situation.

"Light," L rasped again, expression twisting painfully. "I don't want to do this, but you've given me no choice. I can't trust you…not after you gave me up to my successors. If you'd just killed them all, I could have trusted you. But even your confession can't make me believe that you're on my side." Even as he said it, his weapon remained pointing away.

There was shuffling coming from behind him. What was Beyond doing?

"I'm sorry," L whispered. "Truly, Light, I am."

And at the same time, Beyond's voice echoed from behind him, loud and firm. "Light, get down _now!"_

He understood. In a single, terrifying moment, he understood what was about to happen. The shuffling, the light click, Beyond telling him to get out of the way—he'd cleared a path straight from Beyond to L. And Beyond… Light whipped around, momentarily forgetting the danger posed by L. And just as he'd feared, Beyond was there, his own gun up and aimed at L's chest.

He had less than a second to think. L was evil, L was _bad,_ but he was just sitting there with his gun pointed at nothing and his eyes wide and dazed and conflicted, and he was spitting fire from his mouth but his actions were slow and sluggish with confusion, and if Light just reached over he was sure that this time he could tug his gun away and he wouldn't fight and he could _save_ him, bring him back to the orphanage, and even if he was executed later he wouldn't be dying like this, like Beyond had just taken his destiny away from him by shooting him point blank in the chest and watching as the blood flowed and flowed, and those obsidian eyes flickered out.

He had less than a second. _What will you do, Light Yagami? What kind of person have you become? The kind that lets this happen and does nothing? The kind that tries to stop it? The kind that watches as the two most important people in your life tear each other apart?_

Less than a second. Far less, actually, and now his time was running low and he _knew._ He knew who he was. He knew what he would do.

"No, Beyond!" Light cried, body already in motion. "Don't shoot him!"

But it was too late. In the seconds that followed, only one thing was audible—a gunshot, echoing off the walls and reverberating endlessly about the room.

"Beyond—!" Light choked.

And a moment later, blood splattered the floor.


	41. Sowilo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week will be a double upload, and the end of our journey. I'll save the mushy notes for next time, so here just let me say here that I hope that I've lived up to your expectations. I feel that it's impossible to deliver a product that makes everyone happy, and even I'm not entirely pleased with every aspect of the story's ending, but I've done my best to take everyone's feedback into consideration when writing this. I hope I've done this story's monumental buildup at least a modicum of justice.
> 
> So…I'll see you all at the end.

A gunshot echoed off the walls, and Light's entire world went dark with panic. No, no! L couldn't have been shot! He couldn't have been killed, not after all they'd been through! He'd fought so hard for L, even after all he'd done, and now…

Light's world came back into focus, and he immediately began searching for the detective. He had to find him, had to make sure he was okay!

The first thing he saw was Beyond. The man was standing exactly where he'd been before he fired, his gun still held up before him. His expression was one of horror, his eyes wide and jaw slack. But he appeared unharmed, and so Light moved his search onwards. L was his next target—and before long, he found himself staring directly at his lover. He frowned, realizing their close proximity. In fact, Light's back was pressed to his chest. When had that happened? The teen stepped back shakily, eyes raking down L's form in search of any kind of wound. But much to his surprise, he found nothing. L was completely unharmed. How strange…had Beyond missed?

"Light…" L whispered, and the teen's gaze was drawn up to his lover's face. To his confusion, L was wearing an expression similar to Beyond's.

Light's mind still wasn't working at full speed. _I don't understand,_ he thought. _I heard a gun go off, but Beyond is fine, and L doesn't seem to be hurt either. Did Beyond miss, or…?_ His thoughts trailed off into silence as one final option occurred to him, and his gaze drifted downwards.

He blinked. _Oh._

And then, as if seeing it finally forced his mind to process the situation, the shock made him stagger back into _someone's_ arms. It didn't hurt, really—it was more of a surprise than anything else. The red liquid that was slowly seeping across his chest was more fascinating than alarming, though he suspected that it was solely because his mind was still muddled.

"Light!" Beyond called, sounding panicked enough for the both of them—and Light realized that Beyond was holding him, was cradling him to his chest. Not L. "Light, are you—?"

The teen felt the edges of his world beginning to blur. _Funny…this isn't how I expected this to go. I don't even seem to remember moving._ He coughed, and to his relief, no blood spilled from between his lips. Both lungs were intact, at the very least.

Beyond was saying something. He was saying something, but he couldn't seem to hear just what it was.

"What?" Light muttered, beginning to feel dizzy. "Sorry, I can't…hear…"

The next few moments were a blur. Judging by the alarmed cries, he thought that he'd fallen to the ground. It certainly felt as if he were lying down. The next heartbeat someone was leaning over him, a backlit shadow with no face.

"Light!" the shadow begged, "Stay awake! Come on, don't do this!"

He caught about four words before his sense of hearing began to fade. Shortly after went his vision. His sense of touch left him next, and his entire body felt numb and cold.

"Please…" a voice was whispering. "Light, don't—!"

And then awareness left him, and his world went dark.

†††

When Beyond's gun went off, the sound was just enough to shock L out of his stupor. He found himself standing just a few feet away from Light, gun held up and aimed at his head—and he was surprised, because he didn't remember raising his gun in the first place. But that wasn't what should have shocked him. What should have shocked him was the sudden rush of movement, and the feel of Light pressing to him just as the gunshot echoed through the chamber. What should have shocked him was the bullet, destined for L's head, flying just a bit too low and striking Light instead. What should have shocked him was Light, blood blossoming from the wound in his chest, collapsing to the ground.

"Princess!" Beyond shook the teen desperately, keeping his head just barely off the ground even though it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to feel it even if he _did_ bump his head. "Princess…Light, why? _Why did you do this?_ To save _him?"_

L couldn't move. He stared down at Beyond and Light, one unconscious, the other panicking, and just _existed._ His gun was still held aloft in front of him. He thought that he probably wanted to lower it, but he couldn't. He was too busy staring, staring without end. What was going on? He didn't understand. Why was Light…?

"Don't just stand there!" Beyond snarled, looking to the successors with eyes that burned scarlet. "Help him!"

L heard shuffling. Then a familiar voice—Near, he thought—was saying, "Get him up, Beyond, we have to get him into the van. There's a medical kit in the back seat. Now, _hurry."_

"What about _him?"_ Beyond spat, and L suspected that the scarlet-eyed man was glaring at him.

"We'll take care of it. Get to the van, Beyond."

More shuffling. There was more shuffling, and L knew that Light was being taken away from him. He was being taken away from him, and he should care, and he should try to put together what had just happened. But for some reason everything was just _blank._ Or at least, it _was_ blank—blank until someone was in front of him, kicking the gun out of his hand and slamming him to the ground rather ungracefully.

_That_ was when he realized what was happening. _That_ was when he realized that he needed to fight, or he would be captured.

"Don't you dare move," Mello snarled, the heel of his boot grinding into L's right wrist as he attempted to rise. "You bastard!"

Wordless and mechanical, L struggled. Or he _tried_ to struggle, at least—but when Mello dropped a knee harshly on his chest, using one hand to pin his other wrist above his head and the other to wrap around his throat, most of the fight was knocked right out of him. His head still felt fuzzy. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Something deep within himself was telling him that he should be upset, but…why? What had happened? Light…was injured? Or…what? Had he been shot? Who had shot him?

The detective felt a soft noise rumbling up deep in his throat. He wasn't really sure what that noise really _meant,_ though. Was he distressed at having Light removed from his presence? Upset that he was being pressed so harshly into the ground? Upset that no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't fighting hard enough to escape? Was…was he fighting at all? He was struggling, yes, pressing up against Mello's grip in a weak attempt to dislodge him. But…was he really fighting? Trying to escape? He couldn't tell. It was as if he were in a haze, not really _there._ Seeing Light get shot—because that was what had happened, wasn't it?—had pulled him out of one trance and thrown him into another.

"He's gone insane," Mello voiced in disbelief, and L realized that he'd been whispering incoherent sentences in an attempt to convince himself to _really_ start fighting.

"We don't have time for this," was Near's answering snap. A white blur moved in the corners of L's vision, and the next moment that white blur was holding the gun that had been kicked from L's hand. "Grab the notebooks, cuff him, and take him to the car. We need to get out of here."

Everything was so far away…

"Don't order me around!" Mello spat furiously, even as L felt cold circlets close around his wrists, bringing his thrashing to an end. And then there was a hand at his side, and the two notebooks that had become his lifeline were being taken from him, and the struggling resumed in its entirety.

"Cut it out!"

L's cheek burned, and he registered dimly that he'd been punched. He couldn't feel a thing. There was a thick layer of _something_ between him and the outside world. Everything he'd fought for was crumbling. Everything he'd believed in was slipping through his fingers. Somewhere out there, Light was probably dying—and he didn't care. And he _cared_.

Hands closed on his shoulders, yanking him up and pushing him viciously towards the door. "Get moving! There's no time for dwindling if you want to save the person you've just killed!"

Just…killed? No, no, no…not killed, never killed, it was impossible for him to have killed.

"Impossible?" Mello spat, and L realized he'd spoken aloud. "Do you realize that you've singlehandedly murdered thousands of people?"

He was drowning.

"Thousands of people, L. What's one more to that list of casualties?"

What _was_ one more? Water was closing over his head, so what did it matter?

But no. _No._ This wasn't his fault.

"I didn't shoot him," he whispered, and it was the first time he'd spoken since Light had fallen to the ground, blood soaking the front of his shirt. No…he _hadn't_ shot him. "It's not my fault."

Mello's expression twisted furiously. "You can't seriously believe that—!"

L wasn't listening anymore. This wasn't his fault. Light had been shot, Light was bleeding, Light could die, but it wasn't his fault. He hadn't pulled the trigger. This was only the fault of the person who had pulled the trigger. Who had pulled the trigger?

Oh…that's right.

_Beyond._

"L!" Mello spat, lurching forward and grabbing at the detective's shirt as he suddenly began to walk for the van. The blonde successor was too slow, though, and L was running for the van, legs numb, eyes clouded, mind blank save for one vicious thought— _this is Beyond's fault. Beyond will pay for this._

"Stop him!" Near cried from somewhere far behind him.

_No one can stop me. Beyond will pay._ His hands were bound in front of him, but he still had the dexterity to grasp the handle leading to the back of the van and yank it open. And…there he was.

Beyond jolted, looking up at L in alarm. "Wha—?"

L stretched out his hands, not entirely sure what he intended to do with them. Kill Beyond, perhaps? Wrap his hands around his neck and strangle him to death? Then…what? What after that? The thought of the great _after_ made L hesitate, made him stumble—and that singular moment in which he hesitated was all that was needed for Mello to put an end to such thoughts for good.

It was fast. There was a hand at the back of his head. The sight of the bumper of the van getting alarmingly close to his forehead at a very high speed. The sensation of said bumper cracking into his skull. The sensation of something draining from him, though he couldn't tell just what.

Then nothing.

†††

Beyond had to work fast. The instant he got Light back to the car, he stripped him of his shirt and balled it up, pressing it to the wound with one hand as he scrabbled for the medical kit under the seat with the other. He managed to get the kit up on top of the seat, popping it open and grabbing a roll of heavy bandages. Then he looked back to Light, ready to keep working, and sucked in a breath through his teeth.

The shirt was already soaked with blood. How? How was he losing this much blood so quickly? How couldn't Beyond _stop_ it?

"Hold on," he whispered, pressing the cloth firmly against Light's chest and beginning to wind the bandages around it to keep it in place. It wasn't going to be enough. Beyond knew this, and yet there was nothing he could do. Removing the bullet would increase blood loss, so that was out of the question—and there was nothing else in the medical kit that could help him slow the bleeding. This was all he had, and it wasn't enough.

"Come on, Near," he hissed softly, peering out of one of the windows. "Get L in here and let's get going!"

_"Stop him!"_

Beyond jerked his head up in surprise at the faint sound of Near's voice. Was he—?

That was when the door burst open, and L was suddenly standing in the doorway.

Beyond recoiled in shock as he took in the appearance of the other man. His posture was slumped and uneven, almost primitive. His hair was mussed as if he'd been in a fight. A dark bruise was blossoming across his right cheek. But his _eyes_ …those were the most frightening as well.

Dark. Empty. Dead. Just… _dead._ As if everything he'd been fighting for had just been ripped away from him.

"L…what…?"

His hands rose. His eyes remained dead as could be, though, even as his fingers flexed in midair as if seizing a ghost.

_Dead._

L had been under tremendous strain since the beginning of this whole mess. And now…with Light's injury…with Near's triumph…with his own helplessness…it was over. L was done. He was done, and he'd realized that he was done, and he'd broken. There was no way for him to win now.

And then L was being taken down, forehead slamming into the bumper of the car, and Mello was holding him aloft (which was impressive, for his small stature) and roaring something about him being a traitor.

And then there was Near.

"Near!" Beyond snapped out the instant he saw the white-haired teen coming nearer, Matt hot on his heels. "Near, we need to get Light to a hospital _now!_ The orphanage isn't prepared to deal with something like this; he needs a hospital!"

Near didn't even blink. "Matt, Mello, get inside the van. Beyond, watch Light. I'll drive us to the nearest hospital."

"How long?" Beyond demanded as the other successors followed the command without hesitation. L was thrown into the back of the van carelessly, and Beyond knew that there would be several bruises. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"The nearest hospital is about ten minutes away," was the immediate response as the van whirred to life.

_Too long._ Beyond cupped Light's cheek with an overly warm hand, feeling the clamminess of his skin, and he knew. _He won't make it._

"He _will_ make it!" Near insisted determinedly, the van lurching into motion at top speed. "Just watch him, Beyond! Apply pressure to the wound and watch him!"

It was too long. Too much time, and not enough time. Beyond knew this. But what else could he do but obey?

If he could buy Light just a few more minutes, then…

†††

The next few hours were a blur for everyone involved. Beyond, though, seemed the most heavily affected of all. He felt as if he were walking through a dream as he followed the directions given to him, barely aware of what he was doing or what was going on around him. What he did recall was fuzzy, the details completely forgotten. He vaguely remembered the drive to the hospital, which had been tense and silent as he tried to keep Light alive. It hadn't been easy. It had been next to impossible to stop the blood; every time he'd applied new bandages they were swiftly soaked through with scarlet. But in the end he'd managed to sustain his life until they reached the hospital, and then Beyond was being pulled away into one of the waiting areas while Light disappeared into an operating room. The successors were sitting around him. After a brief conversation with the hospital staff, L had been locked away in a spare room, still unconscious. He didn't _deserve_ to be here, and none of them had time to do anything else with him at the moment.

There was a soft noise from beside him, and Beyond frowned. Were there other people around them in the waiting room? Beyond didn't know, and couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was Light. How long would it be until he was out of surgery? Would he be okay?

There was a brief pause. "Shouldn't the doctor have come out by now? It's been hours." Mello's voice was even quieter now.

"He was hurt quite badly," Near pointed out. "The surgery was bound to take a while. But in any case, I'm sure he'll be out soon."

The room fell back into an uncomfortable silence.

"We'll have to deal with him eventually," Mello pointed out in a low rasp. "We should have left him at Wammy's House or something."

Of course he meant L. He meant L, and Beyond felt his nails dig into his thighs at the thought of him.

"We will deal with him," Near agreed softly. "I've already sent the case file to the ICPO. They will handle the proceedings."

"You're letting them handle this?"

Near gave a brief nod. "If I took the law into my own hands, I would be no better than L. The ICPO will decide in whatever way they see fit, and then they will tell me what to do. I've already sent them all the information we have, including the footage we gained from the encounter. There's evidence against Light there, obviously, but I'm confident that I can work something out with them to assure that he stays with you, Beyond."

That wasn't really Beyond's biggest concern at the moment. "You…are aware that they will most likely order L's execution, are you not?" He himself voice the words, but he couldn't quite remember saying it.

Near was silent. Then, "Yes. I am aware."

"Are we really okay with that?"

"Are you not? You have been the biggest advocate of all of us for capturing and killing L."

Beyond winced. "Yes…he deserves to die."

"Then what is the problem?"

Yes…what _was_ the problem? There wasn't one, Beyond knew. There couldn't be. He'd been chasing after L with the intention of ending him for fifteen years, and now…he was _there_. L would die, and he would have no further part in it. His only role now was to make sure that Light recovered.

"Beyond?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he forced out. "Nothing is the problem."

Near cocked his head to one side. "Then what…?"

Another shake of the head. Beyond wasn't sure why he was hesitating. He shouldn't. L deserved death—this he knew. It was foolish for Light to have ever loved him in the first place.

Beyond's blood ran cold. Wait…was that it?

It was…wasn't it?

"Light loved him," Beyond whispered, so quietly that he wasn't sure anyone had heard. But they had, of course—and in the next moment Near was protesting,

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I think…that's why I'm hesitating. Light loved him. He took a bullet for him. And if Light…if he _dies_ , and then we kill L…we're just negating his sacrifice."

"Beyond, are you arguing for L's life?"

The murderer grit his teeth. "I'm not arguing for anything. All I'm saying is that if Light dies, killing L would desecrate his final wish."

"It won't be up to us," Near reminded him. "We're going to let the ICPO decide."

Yes. They were going to let them decide. Beyond no longer had a hand in whether or not L was allowed his life. Except for that he did, in the form of the knife tucked into his belt. If he really wanted to…

There was a noise in the doorway, and then an unfamiliar woman was stepping into the room. "Hello there. Are the associates of Light Yagami I was told about?"

Near got to his feet immediately. "I am. You will deliver all news of his health to me first and foremost."

The doctor's expression was grim. "Very well. If you'll come with me, we'll talk in the next room."

Beyond watched Near follow the doctor through the doorway, vaguely thinking that he should be following them to learn what was wrong with Light. "I should go with them," he muttered. But no one responded, and Beyond stayed where he was.

He fixed his eyes on the closed door to the waiting room and waited for Near to reappear. And ten minutes later, he did reappear—but the doctor was no longer with him. Beyond watched with tired eyes as the successor slowly made his way towards them, gesturing for the team to gather close. His expression was unreadable, and Beyond felt a tiny flicker of fear. Light had to be okay. He had to be okay, didn't he? No one as pure as him could be snatched away so suddenly…right?

"He's out of surgery," Near murmured, gaze fixed on the ground.

_Is he okay?_ But his voice wouldn't work, and he could barley make himself move to sit up slightly.

"Is he okay?" Mello voiced the question that L could not.

Near looked away, and Beyond's stomach sank. "There was extensive damage."

"He's _alive_ , isn't he?" Beyond demanded, voice cracking slightly.

"For now, yes. But—"

Beyond sighed in relief, shoulders sagging slightly. "Thank goodness. From the expression on your face, I thought he'd died."

The white-haired successor suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. He didn't die, but that bullet certainly didn't do him any favors. It's torn straight through several of his internal organs. They tried to repair them, but they don't think it'll hold."

Beyond felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. They…they hadn't been able to fix the damage? Surely that couldn't be right. Light was going to be okay. They were wrong. "Then there's still a chance," he said, voice wavering. "It could hold, and he could recover, right?"

"There's really not much of a chance that—"

"Another option, then!" Beyond insisted. "A transplant!"

"By the time we found a suitable donor, he might already be dead. And besides, the shock alone could kill him if we attempted a transplant now."

Beyond's expression was nothing short of heartbroken. "Is there nothing we can do?" _I'm going to lose someone close to me again?_

Near hesitated. Then he shook his head, admitting, "I'm afraid that there's not. The damage has been done."

"He'll at least _wake up_ again, won't he?"

Another flicker of hesitation. "They're not sure what's going to happen."

"You've got to be kidding, there's no way—!"

There was more after that, more arguing than he could keep track of as Mello jumped in—but that wasn't what he was concerned with. If Light was really in such a poor condition, then he needed to do only one thing.

"Can I see him?" he cut in, forcing his way into the violent bickering taking place between Near and Mello.

All argument stopped immediately, and three pairs of eyes fixed onto him uncertainly.

"I need to see him," Beyond insisted again, breaking the silence.

Near was the first to speak. "If you want to see him, it would be best to go now. He's unstable, and they're not sure when…"

Beyond flinched at the implications of that statement. "Then let's go," he forced out, his tongue dry and thick in his mouth. "I have to see him before anything happens."

"Wait," Near insisted, catching Beyond by the shoulder as he tried to walk by. "Before we go in there, we need to think about L."

"What about L?" the man ground out. "He has no part in this."

"He'll have to be told," Near said firmly. "Criminal or no, he did love Light—or at least, claimed to. He deserves to know what's happening. If Light awakens and provides consent, the two may even wish to see each other one last time."

Beyond's chest constricted at the thought. He was no fool. He knew that L had as much right as he did to see Light—they'd both had a hand in getting him hurt, after all. They'd both pulled the trigger in one way or another.

"Fine then," he forced out, refusing to meet Near's gaze. "I'll go speak to Light, and you can go to L. Wake him up and tell him what's happening, then…we'll let him see Light if he wakes up and asks to speak with him. But _only_ if the meeting is supervised, and _only_ if he's restrained. And if Light shows any signs of distress, we have to remove him from the situation at once."

Near gave a grim nod. "Of course." Then he was pushing himself to his feet, gesturing to the door. "Let's go. We don't know how long Light has."

Beyond, jaw starting to ache with the force of grinding his teeth together so incessantly, thought that perhaps that cracking sound was coming from his heart.

†††

Light's hospital room was quiet and dark. That was the first thing Beyond noticed.

The second thing he noticed was Light.

The teen's skin was unnaturally pale, his chest barely moving with each breath. His usual collared shirt and slacks had been replaced with a hospital gown, and his hair had been slicked back away from his face. In order to keep him alive, he'd been fixed with an oxygen mask and several other apparatuses, all of which Beyond didn't care to identify. All he knew was that beneath all that equipment, Light looked impossibly small and terribly lifeless. The heart monitor beside him kept constant time, keeping track of the tiny flicker that was keeping Light alive.

In short, he didn't look good.

_How long do you have?_ Beyond wondered, drawing closer and crawling up onto the seat beside the bed. One hand reached out, sealing to Light's forehead. He winced when he felt how cold and clammy his skin was. He found himself fighting back a burning sensation just behind his eyes as he remembered that, at least in part, this was his fault. He'd been the one to fire that gun, even if L had driven him to it. It was his fault. His and L's—not that L would ever admit that.

Beyond shook his head to clear it of such unpleasant thoughts. He couldn't think about such things now. He didn't have the time.

As he sat at Light's side, there were muted voices outside the door. Near and Mello, he thought. Near must have already finished up with L. He managed to catch snippets of the conversation, but wasn't able to make sense of it.

"…heavily damaged…not sure if…going to make…"

"…sure…that? There has to be something…can't give up."

"Nothing…can do…too late for…"

Beyond shut the conversation out, vaguely aware that it was important but too concerned about Light to care. He trailed his fingertips down his companion's face, heart twisting painfully. The conversation was continuing outside, but he could hear nothing but the shaky blips on the heart monitor.

And in that moment, those steady blips were the only thing keeping him grounded.

†††

Beyond lifted his head as the door opened, and a pair of pale eyes peered at him from the hall. "Near?" he voiced, wincing at how loud his voice sounded in the nearly silent room. "Is something wrong?"

"I spoke with L," was the immediate reply. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I thought I should update you."

Beyond hummed, turning his gaze back onto Light. His condition hadn't changed much in the past few hours. "Go on, then. Update me. What did he say?"

Near fidgeted uncomfortably. "That's the thing. He…doesn't seem to be in his right mind at the moment. I attempted to talk to him about seeing Light before anything happens, but all he'll do is babble about how this isn't his fault, and how Light stabbed him in the back by not killing us, and just…babbling about the case in general, I suppose."

Beyond felt the skin around his eyes tighten as his expression contorted angrily. "So that's it, is it? That bastard pulls Light into this mess and lands him in the hospital, inches from death, then just checks out mentally?" _What right does he have to leave like this? If not for him, Light would never have been put in this position. He's supposed to take responsibility for this!_

"It's most likely not permanent," Near murmured. "We had a doctor take a look at him, and he thinks it's being caused by shock. It shouldn't last for too long."

"So with any luck, he'll be coherent before anything happens to Light," Beyond translated. "If Light even wants to see him, that is. If he wakes up."

Near gave a brief nod. "You should know that we've decided we're going to hold him here until the ICPO decides to deal with him.."

"And the notebooks?"

"I've tried to return them to the shinigami, but he refuses to take them. He keeps saying that he'll only take them once he's seen how all this will play out. He's interested in our situation, it seems."

"Of course he is," Beyond grumbled. He spared Light one last glance before getting to his feet and brushing off his clothing. "Where is L?"

Near frowned. "What do you intend to do?"

"Just talk. Now, where is he?"

"He's being kept on the third floor in room 607. As I said, we're holding him there until he's sentenced."

He nodded. "Near, I want you to stay here and watch Light. If anything changes, call me."

"Are you going to see L right now?" Near called after him as he pushed his way out of the room.

"Yeah," was the clipped response. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Talk."

"Beyond, don't—!"

But he was already gone, and Near was already alone.

†††

When Beyond walked into L's hospital room, he was immediately hit with a wall of muttering. He couldn't understand most of it, seeing as it was being rushed out at such a high speed and such a low tone, but he caught a few words—all of them pertaining to L being innocent and Light's injuries not being his fault. Delirious. Completely delirious.

Beyond stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him, not wanting any of the other patients to overhear. Being attacked wasn't going to be a problem, he knew. L's hands were cuffed behind him, the chain threaded through the railing on the right side of the bed. He wasn't going anywhere.

"L?" he snapped, trying to get the detective's attention. Near had said that he was completely impossible to talk to, but Beyond wanted to try his hand at it before he gave up. He knew that L was going to be executed—or at the very least, spend life in prison—and he refused to let him go before speaking with him one last time. "L, snap out of it!"

The detective shook his head, murmuring something about finding his notebooks.

"You're not going to get your notebooks back," Beyond informed him coldly. "You've been captured, and those notebooks are going right back to that shinigami once he's ready to take them. Do you hear that, L? It's over. You've lost."

Another shake of the head, this time accompanied by a light tug at the chains. There was more murmuring, but Beyond couldn't make out even a single word of it.

"You need to snap out of it," he went on determinedly. "You're in chains, and Light is fighting for his life a few floors down. You know that, don't you? You saw him get shot. I fired that bullet, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for that, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't your fault just as much as it was mine. You were the one that put Light in a position that forced him to choose, and… _damn it_ , L, if you hadn't been so blind, this never would have happened! It's the same thing as all those years ago!"

L had grown silent now, staring blankly at the sheets.

"But you're not going to take responsibility for it, are you?"

He was motionless.

"You're going to do the same thing you always do, and you're just going to forget about everything that happened. You're going to say that it wasn't your fault. You're going to move on, and you're going to forget all about it. You're going to forget about Light."

L fidgeted uncomfortably, but still he was silent.

"It's absurd, you know. You've done this _so many times_. And you're about to do it again. Things…aren't looking good for Light. It was one bullet, but it ruptured more than one vital organ, and their patch job is only going to last so long. Even if he makes it through this, he won't have more than a few years left before he goes. Light cares about you, as idiotic as it is, and you're not going to be there for him because of your own inability to take responsibility. It's just like when you murdered A."

L jolted, and his next words were completely clear, if a bit soft. "I didn't murder A."

"You drove a knife through his chest and watched as he bled out."

"Not my fault…it wasn't me! It was your fault for—"

"No. I won't hear this again. It was your fault, and you _know_ it was your fault—and this is the same. Light is going to _die_ , L. Be it now or in a few years, it's over for him. I was the one that fired that bullet, but you're the one that's truly to blame for his situation. Even if you try to justify it, even if you try to forget it, it's true. And I think you know that."

He shook his head. "It was your fault," he whispered. "Not mine."

"L. This is the last chance you have to tell the truth. After this, you're either going to prison for the rest of your life or being executed. And believe me when I say that either way, this is the last we'll be seeing of each other. So please—tell me the truth! Admit to me that it was your fault—that _everything_ has been your fault."

L just stared, eyes blank.

Beyond stepped forward threateningly, anger blossoming in his chest. " _Tell me,_ damn you!"

"I…"

Beyond leaned in slightly closer, eyes unblinking. And when he saw the look on L's face, saw the way his eyes shone in the dim light, he was almost convinced that he would do it. That he would confess. But in the end, L was still L—and L hadn't changed. He would never change.

"It wasn't my fault."

_No. Of course it wasn't. At least, not in your mind._ Beyond leaned back, heart heavy. "So be it." He turned away and headed for the door. But then, hand on the doorknob, he paused. "Do you want to see Light before anything happens to either of you?"

"See…Light…?"

"Yeah. He hasn't woken up yet, but if he does…do you want to be there? He might want to see you."

Again, L stared blankly. "You would give me that option? After everything?"

"It's not for me," Beyond huffed. "It's for Light. Believe me, if it were up to me, you'd never lay eyes on him again. But…Light may feel differently. That's all."

L looked away, gaze fixing on the wall across from him. "Yes…yes, I should see him. I should see him again. He needs me. He can't get by without me. Just look what's happened to him because I had to leave for a bit!"

A pit of anger swelled in Beyond's stomach, but he fought it down before it could fight its way up his throat. "You can see him, then, if he agrees—but the meeting will be supervised, and you will be bound. And beside that, we're not even sure if he's going to wake up, so you may not be able to see him at all."

"It's better," L murmured, and Beyond raised a brow in confusion. "I mean, it's better if he's not awake."

He frowned. "What?"

L didn't answer. "I want to see him," he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Let me see Light now."

"He's not awake now. Don't you want to wait for—?"

"I need to see him now. Take me there, Beyond. Now."

Beyond shook his head in bewilderment. "But…if he wakes up, you could have an actual conversation with him. Don't you want to wait for that?"

"I want to see him now."

Beyond hesitated. It couldn't hurt for L to see Light if he was unconscious…and if something went wrong, someone would be there to make sure they didn't go _too_ wrong. Light would be fine.

"Fine," he growled. "I'll get Near."

†††

Some time later, Beyond settled himself down in front of a monitor linked to the surveillance cameras that had been placed in Light's hospital room. On it, he could see L crouched on the chair at Light's side, and Mello leaning against the doorway. They'd all agreed that for supervision, Beyond would be the best person to be left in the room to make sure L didn't do anything foolish. But Beyond, having no desire to watch L sitting at the side of the person he'd ruined as if he'd had no hand in his misfortune, had completely refused. But then again, he'd just ended up watching L through the cameras—so he supposed that his protestation had meant nothing at all, and had only put Mello—the person who had been forced to take his place—at a slight inconvenience.

Squinting at the screen, Beyond saw that L's lips were moving. He frowned, wondering what he could possibly be saying. He knew that he could easily go to the room himself and listen, but he didn't really want to hear it. He didn't want to hear whatever poison L was whispering in his victim's ear. At least he had the comfort of knowing that if things got too bad, Mello would step in and get L out of the room. He wouldn't be allowed to do anything further to Light.

He was so focused on watching L that he hardly noticed when the door opened, and for the second time that day, Near was barging in on him.

"What do you want?" he murmured, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Another update," was the bland response. "The ICPO has reached a decision."

Beyond raised a brow. "Already? How did they manage to push his case through so quickly?"

Near drew up beside him, glancing briefly at the screen. "It wasn't official. The ICPO doesn't want the Kira Case to get any bigger than it already is. They just want Kira to fade away without the masses becoming aware of his identity through a public trial."

"What did they decide?" He already knew. If what Near said was true, there was only one path they could take.

"They've asked me to escort Kira to one of their facilities for his execution."

Beyond's stomach twisted in a mixture of satisfaction and regret. "So that's it, huh? He's going to die."

Near dipped his head in affirmation. "The execution is scheduled for three days from now. The site is very close, so we won't have to move him until the day of. If you'd like to attend, you're more than welcome to do so."

For a moment, he seriously considered it. L was the man he'd been chasing after his entire life, hacking and slashing his way towards getting rid of him. And now he had the chance to do just that. Get rid of him, and watch it happening. But…then he looked back to the monitor, saw Light's inert form, saw the fuzzy glow of the heart monitor, and he knew that he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave Light alone just to watch his worst enemy die. L was going down no matter if he was there or not, so what did it matter?

"Beyond?"

"No," he murmured, jolted back to the real world by Near's prompting. "I think I'd rather stay here and watch over Light. You'll have to handle this alone, I'm afraid."

The teen raised a brow. "Really? I would have thought that you'd jump at the opportunity to watch L die."

Again, his eyes were drawn to Light. He couldn't seem to look away. "A few months ago, I think that I would have wanted nothing more."

"And now?"

He shrugged. "I guess I'm just not interested. There's something here that appeals to me much more."

Near nodded in understanding. "I leave Light to you, then, as per our earlier agreement. The ICPO has shown no interest in getting rid of him thanks to action on my part, so you can do what you wish."

Beyond had to bite back a laugh; he'd almost forgotten about that old deal. Especially now, it seemed meaningless.

Near cleared his throat awkwardly. "Unless you have anything you want to ask me, there are a few things I need to take care of now."

Beyond waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, I understand everything perfectly. You can go."

Near was gone in the blink of an eye, and Beyond was alone once again.

†††

One day later found L staring down at his hands, eyes catching the silvery gleam of the cuffs that bound them. His mind was still slightly fuzzy from the shock of everything, but he thought that it was beginning to clear now. He was back, he thought—ready to think of a plan. Ready to escape, or…something else.

His mind was still ringing after his previous conversation with Beyond. _Light is fighting for his life,_ he'd said. _He could die._ And L didn't want that. He didn't want Light to die.

_He betrayed me,_ he reminded himself. _He refused to kill our enemies. He stood in my way, and he refused to let them die. He_ betrayed _me._ But even to his own ears, the words sounded weak. Yes, Light had betrayed him—there was no doubt of that—but he had also saved his life by putting _his_ on the line. Light had betrayed him, and Light had saved him. And now, he could be about to pay the price.

L shuddered, remembering his brief encounter with the felled teen. Mello had been in the back the entire time, ready to take him down if he tried to attack, but that hadn't been his intent. Instead, he'd simply sat at his former lover's side and said what had needed to be said.

_This is your fault,_ mainly. Also, _you betrayed me_ and _you can't blame me for this when I wasn't the one that pulled the trigger._

He suspected that those were all lies, though. Or at least, _mostly_ lies. It was funny—normally in situations like these, he would just justify everything he'd done by saying that it was for the greater good, then he'd move along and forget about everything. Or at least, take all emotion out of it. He would look back on formerly painful events and say _yes, that happened, and it is not my fault, and I have learned from it,_ then move along with his day. But this time, he was having a hard time justifying just what he'd done. No one would ever suspect it, of course. He was too good an actor for that. But mentally, he was struggling.

_You did this for the greater good,_ he attempted again. But still, a soft voice protested.

_How was this for the greater good? Explain it to me._

_I needed to wipe out the successors and Beyond so they wouldn't get in my way later. They would have tried to stop me, and if they had, the world would have lost its sole source of justice._

_No, L. You're wrong. Had you been caught, the world would have been fine. The world has always been fine._

_But the excessive amounts of crime, the lack of justice, the corrupt system—_

_—Does not exist. They aren't real, L—at least, not to the extent you believe. Crime rates have been decreasing for years, long before you became Kira. The percentage of escaped criminals has fallen. The "corrupt system" has put away a higher percentage of criminals than ever before. It's not real, L._

_But there are so many issues; someone has to address them!_

_Yes, there are problems. There will always be problems so long as we remain human. And we_ have _to remain human. There is no other way._

_It was for the greater good…_

_None of this has been for the greater good. It has been the result of childish insecurity and the inability to let go of the past. L…you are Kira._

_Yes, yes, of course I am, but I'm not like the original! I haven't become the one from the notebook's tale!_

_No, I don't suppose you have. You've become something far, far worse._

_No…_

_Light was right about you. For all your struggling, all your corruption, all your power, all you've managed to do is become the monster you set out to destroy. And Light, caught helplessly in the crossfire of your madness, has taken your place as the lamb slaughtered as a testament to Kira's reign._

And that was the truth, no matter how L looked at it. He wanted to justify it, but…he thought that he'd finally gone too far to do such a thing. Maybe, just this once, he'd pushed it a bit too far.

L had become Kira. He understood that now. And so when Near came into his room and delivered him one simple concept, he was entirely unsurprised.

"I've been ordered to have you executed. In three days, you will be removed from this place and sent to the execution site. That is all."

And then he was gone, and L was left with the echo of the words that had doomed him. He was going to die, and soon. Three days…three days to think up some kind of plan. And…he thought that he already had one.

He would die.

L sat in silence, letting the words bounce silently around the inside of his skull. He was going to die. There was no avoiding that now. Even if he were to miraculously escape, he knew himself well enough to know that he would self-destruct in a matter of months. This case had taken everything from him, drained everything he had to offer, and he knew that there was nothing left for him to save himself with should he escape. Light would no longer be with him, seeing as there was no way he could take him with him in his current condition, and that would be enough to unbalance him _just_ enough to make him careless. He would be found, imprisoned, and executed in a matter of weeks, if not days. It was over, no matter which way he looked at it.

So, then…what was to be done? He had three days, and he had a feeling that getting his thoughts in order would be beneficial. There was a lot to think about—A's murder, Light's impending death, this whole mess with Beyond—and there weren't nearly enough hours left to ponder all of it.

_I'll be heading to nothingness after this,_ he reminded himself, eyes sliding shut. _Mu. The abyss. While I'm there, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to think about everything I've done. And maybe…maybe I can find Light in that horrible place. Maybe I can try to set all this right._

Brief whispers flooded his mind, reminding himself of Light's betrayal, his refusal to kill the successors, how he'd aligned himself with Beyond. But L clamped down on those thoughts, pinned them to the back of his mind and drowned them in what he now knew was the truth.

_Light betrayed me—but only because he knew it was the only way to end this reign of terror._

_All of this…is my fault._

And only now, fifteen years later, did he understand.

†††

"It's time."

Beyond looked up in surprise at the sound of Mello's voice in the doorway. "Time?" he echoed. "For what?"

Mello raised a brow in disbelief. "Are you an idiot? It's been three days, moron—we're sending L off for execution. If you want to say goodbye, this is it."

He blinked. Was this really the third day? It had all gone by so fast…

"They're bringing him to the lobby now," Mello said. "Not much time to speak to him, but it's something."

"What makes you think I have anything to say to him?"

The blonde shrugged uncaringly. "Dunno. You've spent fifteen years looking for the guy, haven't you? Don't you at least want to say goodbye or something before he's executed?"

"I've already said goodbye. Watching over Light is more important now."

Mello gave him an unconvinced tilt of the head. "Right. Good luck with that."

Beyond watched as he disappeared down the hall. _I've already said everything to L that needs to be said. There's no point in me going down to see him again._

One minute passed. He fidgeted, glancing at the door. Surely L was already gone. If they'd been bringing him down when Mello had come in, then he was definitely already being taken away. There was no point in him going downstairs.

No point at all.

†††

Beyond burst out of the elevator and into the lobby, out of breath from the sprint from Light's hospital room. "Near!" he exclaimed immediately upon seeing the white-haired successor. "Is he gone yet?"

Near looked up in shock, startled at the sudden appearance of someone he hadn't expected to show up at all. "L, you mean? No, they're bringing him down from his hospital room now. An armored van is waiting outside to take him to the execution site."

"Good," Beyond panted, struggling to catch his breath. _Damn it, I told myself I wasn't going to come down here…what am I doing?_

"What are you doing here?" Near questioned. "Mello said you weren't coming."

"I'm not! I mean…to the execution. I'm only here to see him off."

"But why? You have, as Mello put it, already said goodbye to him."

"I just…" Beyond shook his head, waving his hands helplessly. "I don't know." In truth, he suspected he was probably here because he hadn't reached any sort of closure with L. He'd never fulfilled his promise to A to keep working with him, he'd never forced him to admit that he'd been responsible for A's death, he'd never forced him to deal with his hypocrisy…the list went on. It was just _closure._ That's all he wanted. And the frustrating thing was, he wasn't going to get it. L was far too proud for that. And so he would go, and he would die, and Beyond's past would never be laid to rest.

It made him feel something he couldn't describe—some kind of dark, twisted ball in his stomach.

"Ah," Near murmured, "he's here."

Beyond's head snapped in the direction of the elevator just as the doors slid open. He immediately recognized the detective amidst two police officers. L appeared exactly the same as he had three days ago—bags under his eyes, spine unusually curved, hands cuffed behind his back. One officer held each arm in a vice grip, eliminating any chance of him running away.

He was trapped. There would be no escaping this.

"The van is waiting outside," Near told the officers as they stepped out of the elevator, L held firmly between them.

The officers began to move for the door, L walking mutely between them. He appeared to offer no resistance, head bowed in acceptance.

Beyond's lips turned downwards at the sight of it. Why did he look so lifeless? This wasn't like him…he should be fighting, wailing about how this wasn't his fault. That was how he always dealt with being confronted with the truth of his crimes.

"So calm," Mello muttered to Near, voicing Beyond's thoughts. "Isn't he going to say anything?"

L's eyes flicked to Mello, and it was obvious that he'd heard.

"It's not like him," Mello went on, either completely oblivious to the fact that L could hear him or completely uncaring. "He should be saying something, fighting the guards…something!"

Even from a decent distance, Beyond could see the way L's entire form tensed—and for just a moment, he thought that the detective was about to start kicking. But then he saw the way he was pushing against the guards, and he realized that L was trying to stop them, trying to stop moving. And to his surprise, the guards accommodated him. He wasn't sure why they did it—maybe they sensed the gravity of the moment, or felt that something important was about to happen—but they slowed to a halt, still holding L between them, and the detective was given a single, precious moment.

L lifted his head and looked back, locking eyes with Beyond. And Beyond, finding himself the victim of those dark eyes, found himself speechless. He could only stare, mesmerized by the depth of those orbs, the unreadable emotion swirling within. Was L…feeling something? Remorse, perhaps? Regret? No, that was impossible…L could never feel such a thing.

The detective blinked. Then his lips were moving, words were falling from his lips, and Beyond couldn't hear a thing. What had he said? What was he saying? Four words, that was all…what were they?

Beyond shook his head, because he hadn't heard what L had said, and he knew that it was important, and he needed to hear it. And L, seeming to understand, said it just one more time.

"Beyond…I killed them."

His mind went blank. He wanted to say something, to ask L what he meant, to make sure that those words signified what he thought they did, but his tongue was caught behind his teeth, and his voice had hit a blockage in his throat. He had to say something, he knew, had to say _anything._

But by the time he got his thoughts together L was gone, the hospital doors swinging in his wake.

†††

One more day passed, Beyond never leaving Light's side. And like all the other days that had already passed, nothing changed. Light remained stable, but there was no change in the probability of long-term success. The damage had been done, and now all that remained to be seen was how long Light could manage to last. The fact that he hadn't died yet was a good sign, according to the doctors. Apparently the likelihood of him waking up was growing.

Knowing that the likelihood was rising, Beyond kept an even closer eye on Light. For all of that fourth day, his eyes remained locked on either the heart monitor or the person connected to it. For Light, the day was the same as all the others since he'd been shot. He was so still, so pale…and as the hours drug on, Beyond started to think that the doctor was wrong, and that Light's eyes would remain closed forever.

But then, just as the fourth day was drawing to a close, he caught a slight flicker of movement beneath the teen's eyelids.

"Light?" he whispered, inching forward in his chair. After so long with nothing, it seemed too good to be true.

"Mph…"

Beyond's heart skipped a beat, and his hands flew immediately to Light's face, grasping the sides of his head urgently. "Light, can you hear me?"

There was a long, halting breath from the teen. "L…?"

"It's Beyond," he corrected softly. "You're safe now, Light…just open your eyes, and we can have a talk."

The teen was silent for a moment longer, and Beyond feared that he'd fallen back into darkness.

And then, slowly, Light's eyes began to open.

†††

_Sheesh…I've been waking up like this too often lately._

Light groaned softly, awoken by a dull pressure at his chest. There was no pain, but he could tell that something was wrong. His entire body felt oddly detached from the real world, and shifting even minutely was difficult. He felt strangely heavy. And that pressure at his chest…just what had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was the sound of a gunshot, then the feeling of his back striking the ground. The events leading up to his sudden loss of consciousness were hazy at best. There had been a barn, and…L? That's right, L had been there. L and Beyond…a standoff…a bullet…

Had he been _shot?_

That was when his sense of hearing began to return, if only by a bit. He heard a soft beeping noise in the background. It was slightly off beat, slightly out of time, but it never ceased. Even when it skipped a beat, fluttering and struggling to get back on course, it always managed to pull itself back into a semi-normal rhythm.

The next thing he heard was the whirring of machinery. On top of the unsteady beeping, there was a plethora of other blips and whirrs as various machines worked away. He realized that there was something pressed around his nose and mouth, and his muddled mind slowly began to put the situation together.

"…Light…just…your eyes…"

A voice reached him, the words choppy and half formed. He frowned, recognizing the voice but not quite able to place it. Someone he knew…someone close to him…

"Look…" The voice was becoming clearer. "I know you don't feel well, but I really need you to just open your eyes, okay?"

He frowned. He was so tired, and the darkness was so tempting…he just wanted to sleep. But something in the back of his mind told him that it was incredibly important for him to wake up. And so with another light groan, he slowly began to pry his eyelids open.

The light blinded him momentarily, slowly giving way to dark shapes. Then those dark shapes began to sharpen and clarify, and he found himself staring directly at a dark head of hair. His eyes combed slightly lower, passing over pale skin and stopping when he reached a pair of scarlet eyes.

"Light," the voice whispered again, and the man's eyes flooded with relief. "Thank goodness…"

He opened his mouth to speak, wincing when the oxygen mask got in the way. "Beyond," he managed, though the mask made it difficult to talk. He reached up a hand to remove it, only to have the man grab his wrist and lower it back to the bed.

"Let's leave that alone, okay?" Beyond prompted gently. "Just try to relax."

"But…" Light resisted the urge to pull the mask off. It made speaking difficult, and the sound of the machine pumping oxygen into it was just loud enough to be annoying. "It feels weird."

Beyond's expression twisted painfully. "I know it feels strange, but you just need to trust me on this. They have you on a high dose of incredibly strong pain medication. You can't feel it, but you're badly injured."

His voice was so strained, so tight…he knew immediately that his injuries had to be severe. "Beyond, what happened?"

He shook his head. "Light, I…"

Light cocked his head to one side curiously. What was he missing? There was something…

_Oh, that's right!_ His mind kicked into high gear as he remembered, "You shot me."

Beyond winced, eyes flicking to the ceiling nervously. "Yeah, I…I did. I shot you."

Light glanced down to his chest, and sure enough, he found himself covered in bandages. He brought up one hand, trailing shaky fingers across the coarse fabric. "Funny…I barely remember a thing."

Beyond reached forward, and the next thing Light knew, his fingers were being pulled away from the bandages. "Light…I'm sorry."

He blinked. "I told you, I feel fine. There's this weird feeling in my chest, but other than that…"

"That's not what I mean."

A frown. "Then what?"

"Just…" He fidgeted. "I'm sorry for everything, I guess. Not being able to get rid of L in time, failing to persuade you to get away from him, failing to protect you…and then _shooting_ you. I know that I wasn't aiming for you, that I was aiming for L, but…still. This is as much my fault as it is his."

Light started, surprised. Was that what Beyond was concerned about? Did he really think that he was at fault for any of this? "No, Beyond. This isn't your fault. You were shooting at L to protect me—it's not your fault that I…" He trailed off, remembering in a jolt of startling clarity how he'd leapt in front of the bullet to save L. "…That I stopped that bullet from reaching its target."

Beyond was silent.

"What happened after I blacked out?" Light questioned, ignoring the odd silence.

"The meeting dissolved," was the response. "We decided that getting you to a hospital was more important than continuing, and so Mello cuffed L and dragged him into the van, and then we were off."

_L!_ He'd nearly forgotten about him! "Beyond, what happened to L? Where is he?"

The expression on Beyond's face grew completely unreadable. He said nothing.

"Beyond, tell me where he is! Have the notebooks been confiscated? Is he being held somewhere nearby? Have you decided what you'll do with him yet?" He tried to sit up, but immediately fell back against the pillows as a spike of pain shot through his chest.

Still, Beyond said nothing. He just stared down at him, completely motionless. And to Light, that silence was louder than any words that possibly could have been spoken.

"No…Beyond, is he…?"

Beyond finally looked away, and his voice wavered as he said, "It's been four days since you were shot. In that time, Near reported to the ICPO and received their decision in regards to what would be done with L."

"And…what was that decision?" As if he didn't already know.

Beyond bowed his head. "They ordered his execution, and it was carried out yesterday. I'm sorry."

Light's heart fell to his stomach like a ball of lead. "So that's it, then?" he whispered. "The man I took a bullet to save is dead? And…I never got to say goodbye?"

There was a light shake of the head. Beyond wouldn't meet his eyes.

Light felt his eyes beginning to water, and he immediately squeezed them shut in an attempt to stop himself from crying. No…he wouldn't let himself shed even a single tear over L, not after everything he'd done. He'd already sacrificed enough for him. He refused to cry. He refused to cause himself any more pain over this. "Okay, then."

Beyond looked up, expression one of shock. "Okay? But…"

His heart was trying to jump right out of his chest, but he wouldn't acknowledge it. "It's over now, Beyond. Crying or feeling down about it isn't going to change anything." Or at least, showing it openly in front of Beyond wasn't going to help. He knew that Beyond already felt horrible for what had happened, he refused to make him feel even worse by showing just how rattled this whole situation had made him. "I'd rather just move on."

Beyond raised a brow. "Move on? After all this? Light, surely you can't be serious! You've been through so much, and—!"

"Beyond, please." His voice caught in his throat momentarily, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't want to talk about this any further. L is dead, along with my family, the task force, Misa Amane, Naomi Misora, and thousands upon thousands of others. And soon…" He clamped down on his tongue. If he finished that thought, he would only cause Beyond more pain. He couldn't do that, not after everything. And so instead, he chose to ask, "What does Near plan to do with me now? Will I be executed as well?"

There was no mistaking the momentary flicker of panic in Beyond's eyes. And in that tense moment, as Beyond stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, expression a mix of desperation and uncertainty, Light knew.

"He's going to execute me," he whispered.

Beyond jolted. "No, no, you misunderstood! You won't be executed, Light. In fact, Near has chosen to conceal your involvement in the Kira Case entirely."

"Then why did you have that expression on your face?"

The mere mention of that expression put it back on Beyond's face for a split second. "Light…"

His heart sank into his stomach. Something was wrong, he was sure of it.

"Your condition, it's—"

The door opened suddenly, and the two nearly jumped out of their skin as a nurse walked into the room. She stopped when she saw Light awake, looking surprised. "Oh! Mr. Yagami, you're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Um, okay, I guess," was the hesitant answer.

The nurse walked closer, checking the monitor beside Light's bed. Then, seeing that everything was normal, she turned for the door. "I'm going to grab the doctor, okay? He'll explain everything to you. And sir? I'm going to have to ask you to step out until after the doctor's seen to Mr. Yagami."

Beyond blinked. "But—"

"No buts! You can come right back in after a few minutes."

Beyond looked stricken, and the way his features had twisted only made Light more nervous. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right here, and Beyond knew what it was. _Beyond…don't go, please!_

But then the older man was being pushed out of the room despite his protests, and the doors concealed him from sight in the span of a single heartbeat.

†††

Beyond could do nothing but wait nervously outside Light's hospital room as the doctor whisked inside to tell him everything there was to know. He hated knowing that he wasn't going to be the one to explain to Light just what had happened to him. He couldn't imagine how brutal it would be to hear that you didn't have much time to live from someone you didn't even know. He just hoped that Light was going to be okay. L's death had to be hitting him hard. Even if the detective had abused him in ways Beyond could hardly imagine, Light had still chosen to save him in the end. He'd still given his life, and now that life had been wasted by L's immediate execution. He'd stepped in front of that bullet for nothing.

The door swung back open, and the doctor reemerged. It seemed like he'd just gone inside, but when Beyond looked at the clock, he realized that it had actually been more than ten minutes.

"How is he?" Beyond asked immediately. "How did he handle it?"

The doctor gave a bemused shake of the head. "He took it all in stride. It's one of the most baffling responses I've ever seen to this, really—he didn't seem the slightest bit fazed."

"Can I go back in, then?" His heart was racing. How could Light just _not care?_

"Yes, you're free to go back in. He's actually recovering quite well; we think that he may have more time than we originally thought. He's never going to be himself again, and he'll have health problems for however long he lives, but…if everything goes well, he may even have _years_ longer than we originally suspected. We're not confident in releasing him from the hospital until the bullet wound has begun to heal, so we'll be keeping him for a bit longer—but in a few days, we can begin to negotiate when you'll be able to take him home."

_Home._ Another thing that Beyond would have to worry about. Where would Light even want to go after this? Surely not to Wammy's House, which would remind him endlessly of L. And returning to Japan would be just as bad.

"Are you okay?"

Beyond jumped, realizing that the doctor was still watching him. "I'm fine," he insisted. Then he was moving, turning for the door and leaving the doctor behind as he reentered the room where his companion was waiting.

His eyes widened the instant he saw Light, sitting motionless on the bed. He was sitting up now, having raised the bed to allow him to prop himself up. The gray sheets were draped across his crossed legs, his hands lying limply atop the coarse material. His gaze was locked unblinkingly onto his hands. He looked dead, and it frightened Beyond. It frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

"Light?" he whispered, closing the door behind him and walking further into the room.

The teen didn't look up. He just hummed softly, refusing to move a muscle.

"Light, are you okay?" Beyond repeated, drawing up beside the bed and sitting down on its edge.

Again, there was no response. But his fingers were shaking, shaking ever so slightly, and Beyond didn't waste a moment in reaching out and placing his hand atop Light's. The shaking stopped immediately.

"Sorry…"

Beyond looked up. "What?"

"Sorry for worrying you. The doctor said you'd been here for a week, just…waiting. I'm sorry that I made you wait so long."

_"That's_ what you're worried about?" Beyond asked, stunned. "Light, what exactly did the doctor tell you?"

The teen shrugged. "About what you'd expect. A few internal organs were ruptured by that bullet. They tried to patch them up to the best of their ability, but it's not going to hold. Best case scenario, I have a year or two. Worst case, I never leave here again."

His tone didn't change as he spoke. He sounded almost robotic, reciting lines he'd been fed by the doctor. "Light, look at me…please…"

The teen didn't move. And Beyond, unwilling to let it go, reached out and tilted Light's chin upward until their eyes locked. And his _eyes…_ cold and dead. Mechanical.

"It's okay to cry, you know. It's not like I'm going to think any less of you." He thought back to that horrible night immediately after L's betrayal, when Beyond had held Light close for hours simply so he could cry all he wanted. At the time, Light had been the one that needed the contact. Now, though, Beyond was the one wishing he had the courage to reach out and comfort the person he'd grown so close to.

Light's expression didn't shift in the slightest. "I don't need to cry. I…I just want to talk to you about a few things before I need to rest again."

Beyond raised a brow curiously. "What do we need to talk about?"

"This wasn't your fault."

It was such an unexpected statement that Beyond had to pause for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Do…you really think that? I fired that bullet, Light. I know that it was L's fault that I fired in the first place, but that doesn't make this at least partially my fault. I played a hand in killing you."

And then, finally, Light's expression shifted. He smiled, albeit with slight bitterness, and shook his head. "No, Beyond. No matter what happens next, I want you to remember this: no matter what you or anyone else did, I would have died in the end."

"What?" he whispered. "What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged. "It's simple. Like I said to L, this story hasn't really changed. We still had a villain and a twisted hero, still lost to Near, and we're still going to die. L is already dead. I'll follow soon enough."

"But not everything has been the same, right?" Beyond questioned. "You told me a long time ago that one of the original Kira's first killing sprees claimed my life, but I'm still here, aren't I? I didn't die, so why do you have to go so soon?"

"It's not your fault," was the automatic response. "Repeat it back to me."

"It…it's not my fault."

Light seemed to relax at that, saying, "Good…now never question that that's the full and complete truth. This wasn't your fault. Never doubt that."

Beyond swallowed hard, guilt nibbling at his heart. Light could say what he wanted, but _he_ knew the truth. All of the teen's reassurances meant nothing, not while he was still lacking all the information. If Light knew the truth about what Beyond had done to get them to this point, he would probably be singing a very different tune.

_I always intended to tell him everything. Maybe now is the time._

"What will we do if I'm released from this place?" Light asked, carrying on despite Beyond's disturbed mindset.

"We?" Beyond rasped, and the word filled him with a horrible mixture of guilt and joy. This was what he'd wanted. He'd wanted to be there to protect Light, to stay with him no matter what the cost. And he still wanted that. But if he was really being honest with himself…

Light took his silence as a bad sign. He drew in on himself slightly, expression cracking around the edges, and murmured, "I'm sorry…would you rather there not be a _we?_ I just assumed that you'd want to stay close, but if you don't—"

"No, no!" Beyond yelped, practically falling over himself in his attempt to console the uncertain teen. "That's not what I meant at all; of course I want to stay with you! It's just…" His voice died in his throat.

"What is it? What could possibly be keeping you from this?" His voice was soft, shaky.

Beyond drew in a sharp breath. Held it. Released it slowly. Then he looked up at Light, taking in the concerned expression on his face, and the next words that escaped him were barely audible in their vulnerability. "I don't want to be L."

He blinked. "…What?"

_Yes…now is the time._ "I don't want to be L," Beyond repeated, finding his strength. His voice steadied. "And I _know_ what L would do in this situation."

Light's eyes widened with confusion. "What…?"

"L would say nothing," Beyond continued, as if Light had never spoken. "L would see that he'd won, and he would take advantage of your ignorance and his lack of opposition. He would let you believe that you knew everything about him, and he would take you away to some far away place and keep you by his side forever. You would never know the truth."

"Beyond…"

"Just _listen._ I know L, and I know that this is what he would do. I also know that I am far too much like L for my own good, and I know that this is what _I_ want to do. I want to let you believe that I'm _so much better_ than L, and I want to leave this place never having told you the truth."

Light said nothing. He simply stared up at him, eyes wide, as if he could see the impending train wreck but could do nothing to stop it.

Beyond swallowed hard. He didn't want to do this. He _had_ to do this. "I'm going to tell you something, Light, and you need to swear that you won't interrupt until I'm through. Because if I don't tell you this now, I never will—and if you interrupt me, I'm not sure I'll have the will to keep going."

He looked afraid now. "B-Beyond?"

For just a moment, Beyond almost backed out. _I swore to make Light happy,_ he thought. _I swore to make him happy, and if I tell him the truth and ruin whatever illusion he's built around me, then I'll make him miserable by removing the last person willing to stand at his side. I shouldn't say anything._ But then he saw the way Light was watching him, wide-eyed and uncertain, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest. _No…I'll hurt him more by keeping this from him. I'll hurt him by lying to him. And…if I lie, I'll just be on my way to becoming a new L to torment him. I'm far too much like L. I can't bring myself to equal him by lying._

This was something he had to do.

"You want to stay with me?" he rasped. "You want to stay at my side after this case ends? Then you should know what you're getting into. What kind of a person you're agreeing to remain with. And…after this, if you decide you'd rather never see me again, I will abscond without even a single question. You'll never see me again, if that's what you wish."

Silence. Acceptance. Perhaps Light had known this was coming, had known that Beyond was hiding something, for he was disturbingly quiet.

Beyond breathed deeply. He could do this.

"I'm a murderer." And that wasn't news to Light, for the teen simply gave a mute nod, expression slightly pained. But no, that wasn't the reaction he was waiting for. "You don't understand," he said. "I'm not just a murderer, I'm a _murderer._ I've killed more people than you've ever met—not as many as L, but that doesn't make it much better. And I didn't just kill them with something as swift as a heart attack, I made them _suffer._ Did you know that I used to kill people for fun? I'd string them up and try out different ways of getting their heart to stop. I once tried to kill someone by causing extreme internal bleeding without ever puncturing the skin. It didn't work, but that didn't stop me for trying. For _hours._ The poor bastard was barely conscious by the time I slit his throat. And then there were the _children._ I murdered them too, did you know? Several children dead, just so I could play my sick little games with L. And then they caught me, locked me away a moment before I tried to burn myself alive, and I _still_ didn't change. When I finally escaped I just went right back to killing, more and more, over and over, and…I still haven't stopped. Did you know that, Light? I still haven't stopped. Just a few months ago I went on a rampage through a prison in Japan and slaughtered everyone in my way. I sliced right through their throats, stabbed at their chests, split their arteries wide open with a flick of a wrist. And then I kept going, kept deceiving everyone, and I couldn't—I couldn't—!" Beyond's voice caught in his throat, choking in a dry, painful way, and he realized that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. He curled his fingers into the fabric of his jeans, tugging at the cloth in an attempt to ground himself in what little of reality there was left for him to grasp at. His entire body felt tense, tenser than normal, wound tighter than he'd ever been. After so long of keeping this bottled up, he found himself crushed beneath the liberating weight of catharsis.

Light did nothing but watch, eyes blown wide with a mixture of fear and pity. One hand flickered out briefly, fingertips skirting across the back of Beyond's hand before falling back to his side helplessly.

"I couldn't…" Beyond repeated, fighting for control of his shaking voice. _"Stop._ I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop, and even though I knew it was never really _right,_ I could never bring myself to care enough to stop. I would have done it to you too, do you realize that? In a different time, as a different man, I would have tried to kill you simply to get to L. I would have captured you, tied you down, tortured you in unspeakable ways. And I would have _loved_ every minute." He looked up at Light for the first time since the beginning of his damning rant, searching for the horror and rejection that he was certain would be waiting for him. "I would have killed you."

Light's expression remained cold as stone. He stared, eyes sharp and judgmental, and his jaw set itself in a firm line. His expression was so severe, so tense, that the sheer gentleness of his words took longer than it should have to register in his mind. "But you didn't kill me."

Beyond stared. Then he shook his head in disbelief, biting out, "That's not the point! Did you not hear me when I told you that I'd killed people, just like L? _Worse_ than L, even! I killed for _fun!_ Doesn't that disgust you?"

His expression didn't change. "I have always known that you were a murderer, Beyond."

Said murderer's gaze turned to that of incredulity. "You can't possibly be telling me that you don't care!"

There was no change. Beyond couldn't even tell what he was really thinking. "Is that all?" he asked, as if the man had never spoken.

"What, you want _more?_ More than the knowledge that I've murdered dozens of people?"

He looked him dead in the eyes. "Yes. I want to know everything you've done, Beyond Birthday. Bare your soul to me."

A dark pit of anger bubbled in his stomach, but he was swift to put a clamp on it before it got out of hand. He couldn't be angry at Light. He couldn't let himself grow furious with such a kind person that had been through so much. No…he could only do what he'd started this conversation to do. "Then I will tell you everything," he whispered. And then he said it, four words just like the ones L had said to him. And just like Beyond himself when L had spoken those words, he could tell that Light didn't understand. And so he said it again, louder this time.

"I killed them, Light."

The teen was as emotional as a brick wall. "Killed who?"

A swift breath in. A slow breath out. "Your family."

And then his expression finally morphed. It was a fascinating thing, watching how Light's features twisted into a momentary collage of anger, pain, and betrayal, then melted to heart-piercing pity before finally settling on a familiar visage of disheartened acceptance. When he spoke, his voice was soft and hopeless, as if he knew that some terrible revelation was coming but wasn't quite ready to accept it. "I saw who killed them, and it sure as hell wasn't you."

"But it was still my fault. You know that, don't you? Even if you've never consciously suspected it, you must have thought on even a subconscious level that I was involved."

Light fidgeted uncomfortably. But his head dipped slightly when he shifted, and Beyond knew that he was admitting the truth. "You…you vanished to Japan. And then, a few days later, my family was dead around the very same area that you vanished to. It…was hard to miss the connection. But I never let myself think about it, you know. I never let myself even suspect that you were involved."

"Well you can start suspecting," Beyond murmured, "because it's true. I may not have pulled the trigger myself, but I sure as hell put them in the position to be shot. Light, this was…" He trailed off, taking a moment to force the lump in his throat down. Then he started over. "You need to know how I was involved."

"Beyond, I don't—"

"You need to know!" he hissed. "You need to know because _I'm_ the one that came up with the plan to get them killed! I knew they would die going into that god-awful plan, and I still did it because I thought it would drive the wedge between you and L that I _needed_ in order to get you away from him!"

Silence. Dead, heartless, silence.

"I needed to get you away from L," Beyond rasped, forcing himself to move forward. "I knew that he would kill you, and I knew that I needed to stop him. And so…I set up a plan that would have that gang take your family hostage and lure L right to them. I knew he would kill them and take the opportunity to get rid of all your outside connections. Once that happened, once your family died, I thought that you would finally hate L enough to join me."

Still, there was nothing.

"It was wrong," he forced out, unable to bring himself to look at Light. "I know that it was wrong. I should never have done that to you, causing you pain to _stop_ you from ever feeling pain again. It was the same thing L wanted to do, and I just ended up doing it for him."

Nothing.

He cleared his throat. "But…you should know. That if I could go back in time with the chance to stop myself from doing it, I wouldn't lift a finger to do so. I would carry out that plan again and again, because it got you away from L. It was wrong, and I never expect anyone to tell me differently. But I can't tell you that I'm sorry, because I'm _not._ And if you're going to hate me, then hate me for _that_. Hate me for getting your family killed and never being able to feel sorry for it."

He remained soundless, motionless.

"Light?" He finally dragged his eyes upwards, raking them up to the teen's face—and _finally_ , he took in his expression. And it was…

Dead. It was dead.

"L-Light…?" he whispered shakily. He'd needed to tell him this, but that didn't stop him from feeling an incredible wave of guilt at the notion that he'd possibly just pushed one of the only two people he'd ever loved out of his life forever.

For a long moment, Light remained silent as the dead. But then he shifted just slightly, and a soft breath broke the still air. "My family is dead."

He nodded wordlessly.

"You're responsible for their deaths."

Another nod.

Light lapsed back into silence. Then, "But that isn't really true, Beyond. Is it?"

"Of course it's true!" he gasped, lurching forward and curling a hand in the teen's hospital gown. "I was the one who orchestrated that plan; what part of that don't you understand?"

"You didn't kill them."

"But—!"

"Listen to me, Beyond." Light shifted forward, and he looked stronger than Beyond had ever seen him. More determined. More resolved. "No matter what you did, my family was doomed. I can see that now. L…he would have gone after them eventually, or maybe just let them die the next time they were threatened. And they _would_ have been threatened. No matter what you did, no matter what I did, this would have come to pass." He raised a hand, seeing Beyond beginning to protest. "I'm not finished." He waited. Then, seeing the man settling back into his chair, he began again. "This would have happened anyways," he repeated. "But still, the plan was your idea. You didn't do this, Beyond—but you _did_ , too."

His heart dropped into his stomach. Here it came.

"I…I don't know what you want me to say."

He looked up, surprised. He'd expected to be thrown out on his ass as soon as he admitted to everything. But Light…what was he doing?

"Do you want me to forgive you?" the teen whispered, voice soft but strong. "Do you want me to hold you and tell you that everything will be okay, that I don't blame you for any of this? Do you want me to tell you that what you did wasn't horrific and evil? Because I don't know if I can _do_ that."

"You shouldn't," he forced out. The words nearly broke in his throat, shattered like glass. "You shouldn't forgive me."

"No," he agreed. "You told me, once, that you were like L. Like L, but different, too. At the time, I wasn't quite sure what you meant. But now…I think I understand."

The murderer prepared to leave. Light wouldn't want him at his side now.

"But…do you want to know just what it is that makes you different from L?"

Beyond stopped, having already started to get up. And then Light was leaning forward, Light was reaching out a hand, and that hand was settling over his heart in the gentlest of ways.

"You told me," Light whispered. "You told me what you did. You told me it was wrong. You understand."

"I can never apologize. You know that I'm not sorry for what I've done."

His expression turned dark and pained. "And for that you can never be forgiven."

Silence fell between them, thick and unbroken, and Beyond knew that he had broken something that could never be repaired between them.

"What will you do?" Beyond asked softly.

Another soundless moment. Then, "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yeah." Light leaned back wearily, hand falling across his stomach. "It's not like there's much left for me here. Or…anywhere. I should have a little while before I die, so…I guess I'll have to figure it out pretty soon."

"Light… you'll always be welcome at Wammy's House, you got that? If there's nowhere else for you to go—"

"Thank you," Light murmured, cutting him off. "But returning there would kill me. You know that."

He did. He knew. "Do you…still love him?"

Light turned his gaze on his hands somberly. "You want to know something funny? I don't think I ever really did."

That, at least, was something good that had come of this whole mess. Light had finally realized the truth.

"You'll stay here for a while longer, won't you?" Beyond asked, forcing his pain down beneath the surface. "To recover."

There was no hesitation in his response. "I will stay as long as it takes for me to recover. After that…" He shook his head. "Well…I suppose my first order of business will be to forget."

The man frowned. "Forget…? What do you mean?"

Light cocked his head to one side. "Beyond…you know I can't keep my notebook, don't you? The instant my shinigami arrives, I'll be faced with a choice: give it up willingly or die. And I won't choose death, not yet."

"What…?"

Light stared at him quizzically. "Have…you not read the rules written on the inside of the notebook?"

He shook his head, puzzled. What was Light getting at?

The teen's expression tightened, and immediately Beyond knew that he wasn't going to like what came next. "Oh…you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" His voice was shaking.

"Beyond…I'm going to give up my notebook. And when I do, I…I'll forget everything that's happened here."

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped right over his head.

"Everything having to do with the notebook will be removed from my mind. It will be as if I never met Ryuk, never had the notebook in the first place, never used the eyes. Everything, every trace, will be wiped clean. And Beyond…I have no way of knowing what that will do to our relationship, or the one I shared with L. So much of what we were was based on the Death Note…what will happen when I forget? It could wipe out our entire relationship. I could forget you entirely, or have only bad memories of how you got my family killed."

He couldn't breathe. The ice was paralyzing his entire body.

"Soon, it will be like all of this never happened."

He could barely speak. "No…there has to be a way!"

"There's nothing," was the soft response. "I swear to you, Beyond, this is the only way. If I don't forget, I die."

"But you won't be _you_ anymore!" he cried out. "You'll be dead either way!"

Light dipped his head, chin pressing to his chest. "Don't you think I know that?"

"There has to be a way!" he repeated desperately. "Make a video, write down what happened, leave a record of what you went through! You can read it, understand it, and even though you won't have the memories, at least you'll know of them!"

A pause, deep and tense. Then Light's fingers curled into fists, and his head shook from side to side just slightly. "No. I've made my choice, Beyond—and I've chosen to forget."

"Y-you—!" he spluttered. "You _want_ to forget?"

Light looked up at him, and his eyes were hollow. "I don't want to hurt anymore."

Beyond opened his mouth to yell, to scream, to tell him he was an _idiot_ —but then he saw the way Light was looking at him, saw that mixture of exhaustion, determination, and pain, and he understood. He understood, and he hated himself for it. "You don't have to hurt…you can record your memories, and you won't remember the pain! You'll just read about it, or listen to it, or… _something!"_

"No, Beyond. It won't be enough. Do…you want to know something?"

He shook his head, not really meaning it.

Once again, the teen refused to make eye contact. "I think I'm broken."

"Broken?" Alarm flashed through him

"Yeah. Broken. I'm just _different_ now. Can't you feel it? Something inside me…it's cracked. It's cracked, and I can't even see who I used to be anymore through the fissures. Ever since I woke up and found out what happened, those cracks have just been growing and growing, and I know. I know that whoever I was before all of this…I'll never see him again. Not unless I give everything up."

"You won't forget everything, you know," Beyond shot at him. "You'll still remember L abusing you, killing your family, even if you forget how the Death Note played into such things. This won't make you better, it'll make things worse! You'll spend the rest of your life wondering what you're missing, hunting for answers!"

"No, I won't—because I'm going to tell myself not to."

Beyond sucked in a sharp breath. "And you really think you'll listen to yourself?"

"I'll _make_ myself listen. I'll leave a message, and I'll make sure that after I'm gone—after _this version_ of myself is gone—I'll never go searching for answers."

"You're giving yourself a lot of credit," Beyond managed in a low rasp.

Light smiled, but there was no joy in it. "I trust myself, at least."

Silence. Thick, dark, impenetrable. It cloaked them.

Then, "Is there really nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?"

For the briefest of moments, Light didn't respond. He simply sat there, a small smile on his lips, gaze fixed on his clasped hands. And when he looked up, projecting the void that had become the center of his heart, his words were soft but clear. "No, Beyond. There isn't."

And that was that.


	42. The King of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of the end, with part two to follow in a few minutes. Enjoy!

Light kept his word. To Beyond's relief, he remained quietly in the hospital for the following week as he recovered. The teen was strangely silent, keeping to himself and barely acknowledging Beyond whenever he was in the room. It hurt him endlessly to know that _he_ was the one that had put Light in this state. He'd taken that last spark of hope and stamped it out. But…no matter how much he hated himself for it, he knew that it had been necessary. If he'd let Light continue to live thinking that he was completely innocent, he never would have been able to live with himself. He would have cracked one day, told Light everything, and that would have hurt him all the more. It was better that he tell him now, before anything could happen to make it more painful in the future.

It was better this way.

So why did it have to hurt _so damn bad?_

Beyond watched Light as he fiddled with the laptop he'd brought him earlier in the week. He really did look better, his skin returning to its normal color, eyes brightening, bruises fading. The one thing that didn't change, however, was his disposition. He remained quiet and distant, constantly locked away in his mind. Beyond suspected what he was thinking about, and he didn't like it. He'd just been silent for so long…

And so it was a surprise when suddenly, after a week of only quiet murmuring on rare occasions, Light decided to speak. "I'm almost well enough to leave."

Beyond started, not having expected the teen to speak. "Yeah?" he responded, struggling to regain his composure. "Feeling that good, are you?"

"Well, I don't think I'll ever feel _good_ again. But…I'm better, I think." He closed the lid of his laptop with a soft click. "Soon I'll be able to leave." Amber eyes glanced up at Beyond expectantly.

"Is that so?" Beyond hummed, heart sinking.

A pause. Then, "Beyond…"

"Hmm?"

"We need to talk."

He winced. "Yeah…I guess we do. Have you…decided where you'll be headed after you get out of here?" His real question echoed soundlessly throughout the room. _Will you stay with me?_

Light looked away, but Beyond didn't miss the guilt in his eyes. This wouldn't end well, he could feel it. "I…I think I know where I'm going."

"And where would that be?" he prompted. He had to know.

"Back to Japan."

The words fell heavy around them, dragging Beyond's already leaden heart down to his toes. "Japan," he rasped, "huh?"

"Japan."

"Back to your…your old home?"

A light shake of the head. "Returning to that place would kill me just as surely as would the orphanage."

"Then where?"

The briefest of hesitations. A guilty flicker. "I think…To-Oh."

"That college?" Beyond asked, surprised. "How do you expect to get in? How do you expect to be able to support yourself, if…" Then he trailed off. Cleared his throat. Said what he was _really_ thinking. "Let me come with you. I can help!"

His jaw clenched visibly. "Beyond, I just…I _can't._ And you _know_ I can't."

"But…"

"No. This is something I must do alone."

"Then keep in contact!" Beyond said, fight back the dread beginning to flow through every vein in his body. "Call me, text me, do _something_ so that I can make sure you're okay!"

The teen looked up at him sadly, wearily. "Y-yeah…if that's what you want."

Even as he said it, Beyond knew it wasn't going to happen.

"I promised Near I'd watch over you," Beyond reminded him, one last desperate attempt to stop him from leaving.

"And you have. You've done brilliantly, Beyond—but now I think it's time for…"

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear it.

"…for us to part ways."

He'd known it was coming. And it hurt more than he wanted to admit. "I could protect you," he murmured, though it was pointless now. "If you'd let me come with you."

"I couldn't do that to you. And what's more, I couldn't do that to myself."

"Heh…didn't realize you hated me that much." He tried to say it jokingly, but it came out far more pained than he would have liked.

Light heard that pain, and his entire body seemed to deflate slightly. "I could never hate you, Beyond," he murmured. "You did what you thought was right—and though it caused me pain, I leave knowing that you cared enough to tell me the truth." His gaze darkened. "It's more than L ever did for me."

The backs of his eyes were burning. "So," he started, clearing his throat. "If you're going to To-Oh, we have quite a bit of work to do. Will you want the orphanage to support you financially?"

Light hesitated, and Beyond knew immediately what he was thinking.

"Let me rephrase—the orphanage _will_ support you financially." Seeing Light about to protest, he insisted, "Please, Light—if you're not going to let me go with you, then at the very least you must accept the orphanage's help. Watari will be more than willing to help you."

He still looked uncertain.

"Come on," Beyond groaned, "just accept help with this one thing! You never have to return to the orphanage again if you don't want to, just let us give you the aid you need to get back on your feet after this disaster!"

A flicker of hesitation. Then, slowly, the first real smile Beyond had seen out of him in days. "If there's really no convincing you, then how can I protest?"

Relief nearly floored him. He wouldn't be there to protect Light anymore, but at the very least he could offer him this.

"Beyond," Light went on, catching his attention. "When does Near plan to give the notebooks back to the shinigami?"

The man shook his head with a sigh. "Honestly? It could be anytime in the next few days. But you won't lose your memories when that happens, will you? Near doesn't own your notebook, so giving it up won't mean that you lose your memories."

"No," Light agreed. "Once Ryuk has the notebooks in hand, he'll no doubt return to me in order for me to relinquish possession back to him. After that, he'll return to the shinigami realm and presumably give the story within those notebooks back to the King. His adventure will be over, as ours will be."

"And after?"

"You'll take me to Japan, if you don't mind accompanying me that far." Light shifted nervously, as if he were afraid of asking. "I've already contacted To-Oh, and with Watari's help, it wasn't too difficult to get them to take me in. I'd like you to be with me when I arrive."

"When will you forget?" It sounded so casual. It made him sick to his stomach.

The teen looked away. "I…I'll know when the time comes, I think."

Now it was Beyond's turn to avert his gaze, focusing on where Light's laptop sat abandoned at his side. "Yes," he agreed. "I think that you will."

†††

Not twenty four hours later, Beyond found himself back at Near's side for one reason, and one reason alone.

"You said you were going to return those notebooks to the shinigami. Where is he?" Beyond tapped one foot expectantly, arms crossed. He hadn't been pleased to receive the message, having been torn away from Light's side in order to come down and speak with Near. He knew that Light wouldn't lose his memories here, but something still drew him to watch when the notebooks were given up. Personally he wished they could just burn the Death Notes and be done with the whole mess, but the shinigami would never allow it. He'd made it very clear that anyone who attempted to destroy them would die—and Near was nowhere near noble enough to die for this.

"You heard me," Beyond snapped, seeing that Near had no intention of giving a response. "Where is the shinigami?"

Near pointed to the corner behind him soundlessly. Turning around, Beyond saw the shinigami floating up near the ceiling, chuckling down at him. He couldn't resist staring for a moment. _This is your fault. If you hadn't messed up on that "mission" you were on to retrieve the notebooks, then Light never would have been sucked into L's web. His family would still be alive, he never would have been shot, and he wouldn't be forced to live with the knowledge that at best, he only has a few years to live._

Seeing now Near was staring at him, Beyond was swift to clear away the unpleasant thoughts. "There's no point in putting this off," he said gruffly, forcing himself back into the persona Near knew so well. "Let's just give that thing the notebooks and be rid of it already. It's caused enough trouble as it is."

Near glanced to the other successors, lurking silently in the back of the room, and was met with nods of affirmation. Then he turned back to Beyond, saying, "I believe that would be best, yes." He got to his feet, walking over to the desk and pulling out the first drawer. Inside, the three remaining Death Notes in the human world lay piled on top of each other. All this death, all this suffering…it had all been caused by these three notebooks. It was hard to believe that a few clumps of paper could cause so much destruction.

"Ooh," the shinigami cackled, "is it time already? That's a shame…humans are just _so_ interesting!" He swooped down from the ceiling, landing just in front of Near. "It's been fun watching this play out, you know. But now that that detective's kicked the bucket and the kid's a wreck, I think it's time for me to go. No point on staying here now that all the conflict's been resolved!" He laughed again. "Just hand over the notebooks and I'll be on my way back the shinigami realm."

"Disgusting," Beyond muttered hatefully, not caring that the monster could hear him.

"Disgusting, eh?" The shinigami grinned that perpetual grin of his, eyes blown wide. "You may say that now, but all I did was drop a notebook into the human world. You humans were the ones that used it to wreak havoc. If anything, I think _you're_ the disgusting ones."

He had a point, and Beyond hated him for it. "Just take the notebooks and get out. We don't want you here any longer." _Even though you're sure to go straight to Light to take his memories._

The shinigami cackled yet again, holding his hand out to Near. "Give 'em here, kid."

Near stared at the notebook for a moment. Then he looked up to the shinigami and said, "After this, do you swear to leave the human world?"

"Don't have much of a choice, really. The old man will be expecting me, especially after so much time. I might even be punished." He giggled. "Oops."

Near's lip curled minutely in disgust. "Fine, then. Take them." He held out the three notebooks with a gloved hand, and the shinigami was swift to scoop them up. "I was careful not to touch the notebooks with my bare skin after L's death, so I shouldn't be the owner of any of them. I'll keep my memories, yes?"

The shinigami offered a short shrug. "Yep, sounds about right to me."

The shinigami reached to his side, tucking the notebooks in alongside his own notebook in the thin pouch at his side. One of those notebooks didn't belong to him, though. It belonged to Light, and he knew it. "That's it, then!" He spread his wings, hovering just a few feet off the ground. "It's been fun, but it's time for me to go. See you later!"

And with that, the shinigami soared upwards, phasing through the roof and disappearing from sight. Soon, he would go to Light. Soon, he would take his memories and leave for good.

Which meant that he had an obligation to tell Near what was about to happen.

"Near."

The teen looked up, surprised. "Beyond? Is something wrong?"

"It's just…" He took a moment to collect his thoughts. This had to be perfect. "You should know that Light's decided what he'll do after he's released from this place."

He quirked a brow. "Oh? And what has he decided, exactly? You _do_ remember that you swore to watch after him, don't you? You can't let him go running off on his own."

"Just _listen_ to me," Beyond hissed irritably. "Light has decided that he's going back to To-Oh to study _._ He's told me that he wants to go back there and lead a normal life, and I'm not going to stop him. Hell, I won't be _with_ him to stop him."

"Won't be with him?" Near repeated, alarmed. "You swore you'd watch to make sure he stayed on the righteous path!"

"You don't have to worry about that, snowflake."

"And why's that?"

"Because he's going to forget all of this, and he doesn't have long to live anyways."

Near fell abruptly silent.

"You didn't forget, did you? You may have given up those notebooks, but Light still has possession of one of them. He still has his memories until he chooses to give them up. And once he _does_ give them up, he'll pose no threat to you anymore. There will be no way for him to stray from the righteous path, not in the way you fear. There will be no need for me to watch over him."

"Don't you want to?" Near questioned. "You seemed so taken with him, I assumed you'd follow him no matter where he went."

Beyond shook his head, every slight movement sending a pang of longing straight through to his heart. "Light doesn't want me to follow him anymore."

The teen sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

"It's his choice," was the soft response. Beyond knew he was letting his persona slip, and he couldn't bring himself to care. "When this all began, my one wish was to free Light from L so that he could be happy. Now I have the chance to _do_ that, to make him _happy—_ even if that means leaving him forever."

Near stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, as if he couldn't quite grasp the concept of Light wanting to wash his hands of all of them. "That's really it, then? He's determined to leave?"

"He is. And there's no point in me watching him, as you've seen. He's going down his own path now."

"I…" The teen trailed off, conflicted. Then he seemed to steel himself, murmuring, "I understand. I leave him in your hands, Beyond, as I said I would. And if that means you leaving him in Japan and never returning to see him again, then so be it. It is his life to live—so long as he never does anything to bring him back to my attention again."

_His life to live._ "For a little while longer, it is," Beyond agreed.

"Will you be returning here when you've finished dropping him off in Japan?" Near inquired. "We could use you here, you know. Despite your troubled past, I think you could do great things for us." He stretched out a hand, waiting.

Beyond stared at that hand, extended so hopefully in his direction. He could see himself taking it. He really could. He would shake Near's hand and join him for good. He would solve cases with him and the other successors, piecing together the remnants of the world Kira had left behind. He would leave his murderous past behind him. He would finally have a purpose other than getting rid of L.

But…in the end, it just wasn't _him_. It wasn't him, and it never would be.

Near seemed to know it. His hand slowly returned to his side, and he offered the dark-haired man a stoic look. "What will you do?"

It was an echo of the question Beyond had asked Light only a few days prior.

"Beyond?" Near said again. "What will you do?"

"Hmm…" He looked up at the ceiling, and it was as if he was peering straight through to the stars. "Well, first I'm going to take Light to Japan and make sure he's settled in."

"And then?"

"And then…" The fingers on one hand curled, clenching in a fist over his heart.

"I think I'm just going to…disappear."

†††

"Are you ready?" Beyond whispered, standing in the doorway of Light's hospital room. It was dark, he realized—almost as dark as the sky outside the closed window, the only light offered by the dull glow of the hospital equipment. Light had been unhooked from said equipment mere hours ago in preparation for his departure. It had taken over a week, but he was finally well enough to go home. He would never be okay again. He knew that. But at least he would be able to function for a few years yet. The hospital closest to To-Oh had been notified of his situation, as had the campus physician, and they were fully prepared to deal with whatever side effects came with what had happened to Light. Light, too, knew his responsibilities. After a long talk with the doctor, he knew what he could and couldn't do, and when he should seek medical aid. He would never be okay. Never. But now, looking at him as he sat on the side of the bed, Beyond could almost believe that he would be.

"I am," Light murmured, bringing the man back to reality. "I'm ready to go."

Beyond's heart felt like lead in his chest. "I've arranged for your things to be sent ahead of you to To-Oh. They should already be in your dorm room when you arrive. Once we get there, I'll give you the packet of information they sent for you. It tells you who your roommate is, where your classes are, what's expected of you…" He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat. This was it. Almost.

"Yes, that will be good," Light intoned brusquely. "Now, is the car outside?"

"It is. Watari will take us to the orphanage, where we'll board the private jet and go straight to Japan. Then, I'll escort you to To-Oh and make sure that you're settled in properly. And after that…"

Light bowed his head. "You'll leave."

"If…if that's what you truly want."

The teen was silent for a long moment. Then he pushed himself to his feet, only wincing slightly as the movement tugged at his stitches. "Let's go, Beyond."

And they did.

†††

The plane soared overhead, tearing across the ocean on its way to Japan. And aboard that plane, Beyond watched as Light huddled painfully in his seat. It was obvious that his wounds were still hurting him, even though he'd been given a powerful dose of pain medication just before being released. If physical contact would have been welcome at such a time, Beyond would have been more than happy to offer it. But as things stood, Light stared blankly out the window and refused to say a thing. The shinigami was there, too, drifting in and out of the cabin listlessly. Light had convinced him to wait a few days before finally returning to the shinigami realm, so that he could return to Japan and make that video he kept talking about.

"Just a few hours more," Light murmured suddenly, the sound breaking the silence.

Beyond winced. Was Light really so eager to be rid of him?

"Just a few hours more, and I can finally leave all these awful memories behind me."

Oh…so _that's_ what he was thinking about. He should have guessed.

_Just a few hours more._

†††

Just like that, those hours had turned into minutes, into seconds, into _now,_ and Beyond was standing beside Light in front of the place at which he would leave him behind forever.

To-Oh University stretched before them.

It really was a beautiful, Beyond realized. It was a sprawling campus, filled with bright green grass and towering trees. Tiny bunches of wild flowers sprouted up periodically in the grass, dappling the ground with bright splashes of red, purple, and yellow. The buildings were tall and sleek, a striking contrast against the bright, natural landscape, and great archways rose from nothing, dipped into doorways, flowed around windows. Students flickered about the whole place, making their way to and from class in excited little clusters. It looked more like a place you'd see in England than in Japan. Light was going to love it. Light _did_ love it, he could tell.

"Just like a forest," he was whispering, eyes tracking the long lines of the trees as they stretched for the sky. "So full of life…"

Beyond's heart warmed. Yes…this was perfect. He watched Light. He took in the way his eyes grew wide with wonder, with anticipation. He observed the way that tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips, showing just a flicker of teeth. He memorized the way he held himself, shoulders loose and relaxed, chin held high, right leg just a bit in front of the left. He absorbed the way the light played off his skin, and how the breeze swept his hair away from his face. The way his scarlet eyes sparkled.

Light looked down at the set of papers in his hands. There was written everything he needed to know, and he raked his eyes over the words as if drinking in the freshest water in the midst of a desert. "I don't start classes until a few days from now, so I should have time to run around and get to know the campus."

"That's good," Beyond hummed, barely paying attention. He was still watching. This was the last chance he was going to get, after all. He wanted to remember everything.

Light turned to him. "Thank you for bringing me here."

It was coming. He could feel it.

"Beyond…"

Life moved around them. Students skirted mere feet from their forms, oblivious to what was happening right in front of their eyes. The trees swayed in the breeze, raining a gentle dappling of leaves down upon their heads.

"…thank you for everything."

He nodded once, silently. He knew what was about to happen.

"You may not believe me when I say this, but…I value all the time we had. I can never forgive you, but I can never hate you, either. Just…remember that. When I'm gone."

"You mean when you _forget."_

"Yeah…"

They stared awkwardly at each other.

"So…" Light shifted his feet from side to side. "I guess…this is it."

"I guess it is." His voice caught in his throat.

"Um…goodbye…?" He shuffled backwards but didn't turn away, expression one of confusion. He wasn't sure if he should leave.

_You're not ready just yet. Let me help you._ "Light."

"Hmm?"

"One last thing before you go."

The teen raised a brow, but looked up at him eagerly. "What is it?"

Beyond reached for his jeans pocket, slipping his hand into the denim and feeling for the thing he'd kept there since it had been taken off Light during the operation. His fingers closed around cold chain, and he was swift to withdraw the thing from his pocket and hold it up to the light.

Light's eyes sparkled when he saw it. "The necklace? A's necklace?"

He nodded silently. "I gave it to you, didn't I? I thought…you might want it back."

Light stared at it for a moment, expression conflicted. He clearly wanted to take it, but something was holding him back. Perhaps he didn't want a reminder of his previous life? Beyond opened his mouth to say something more, but then…

"Thank you, Beyond." Light reached forward and took the necklace, holding it in his hand as if it were precious. He glanced up through a curtain of amber hair, and his voice was soft as he whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

"I don't have to leave," he tried.

Another flicker of conflict. "I wish that you didn't, but…this is my fight now. You understand that, don't you?"

A nod.

"I'm weak. That, too, you know." He held up a hand when Beyond started to protest, saying, "No, you _know_ I'm right. Ever since I met L, I've just been withering away into a pathetic excuse for a human being. I've thanked him for abusing me. I've sat back and let him use me like a toy. And now that he's gone, it's time for me to distance myself from everything. It's time for me to find my strength again. And…I can't do that with you, Beyond. No matter how much I wish I could look past everything you've done and stay with you, I know that I'll never be _me_ again if I do. I'll just keep leaning on you and leaning on you, over and over again until I turn you into another L."

He dipped his head. He knew this, all of it. If only…

"I'm going to miss you," he repeated. The necklace vanished into the breast pocket of his shirt. "Even if I forget everything about you."

"Are you sure you'll be…?"

Light smiled at him, and it was as bright as the sun. "You don't have to worry about me anymore. I can see everything now, see it in a way I never thought possible. I can see what I've been through, what I've become, and what lies before me. I see what I'm meant to do, and all that's left is for me to set my feet on the proper path. After that…well, I'll just have to follow it and see where it takes me. I'll be okay."

Beyond felt his chest tighten at the feel of the sheer hope being projected his way. "I know," he whispered—and for the first time, he really did. He knew that Light was going to be okay. For whatever time he had left, he would be okay. He didn't need him anymore. "It's been an honor working with you."

It was a cheesy line, but Light grinned anyways. "And with you, Beyond Birthday. I'll never forget you."

And even though there was no way of knowing if that was really true, Beyond grinned back. And then he watched as Light tucked the bundle of papers under his arm and turned to the side, looking up at the school that would become his home. His expression melted into something far beyond his years, and the smile he offered the school was breathtaking. When he turned back to Beyond that smile hadn't left, and he felt it course through him like a wave of sunlight. "Goodbye, Beyond. May our paths cross again in the future."

"Our paths will always be crossed," he swore in response, voice barely audible over the dull buzz of college life. "No matter what happens. No matter where you are. I _will_ be with you."

The smile turned softer, gentler. And then Light was walking up to him, and a hand was coming up to cup his cheek, and then there was the soft feel of Light's lips pressing to his for the briefest of moments.

And then it was over.

Beyond stared in shock for a heartbeat as Light stepped back, expression one of gentle admiration. He said nothing as he turned, taking a few steps towards the main building of the campus, and put Beyond and everything he'd come to love at his back for good.

Beyond watched him go. He watched him until he vanished into the school building, the last flicker of his amber hair slipping through his fingers and disappearing.

_It's time to let go,_ someone whispered, deep in the back of his mind. He couldn't be sure, but…he thought it sounded a bit like A.

And he agreed. Finally, it was time.

Beyond dipped his head to the school as if in acknowledgement of the person it had just taken from him. Then, heart heavy in his chest, eyes turned towards the sky, he followed Light in turning his back on love.

It had, he realized, never been something that was meant for him.

†††

Two weeks later Light sat in front of a camera, shifting uncomfortably. His wounds were almost healed—or at least, as healed as they were going to get—but still they caused him much more discomfort than he would have liked. He would have to make this quick.

"Make this quick!" Ryuk snapped, mirroring his thoughts. "You got a whole extra two weeks; I want the notebook back!"

Light waved a hand irritably. "Just stay out of frame and let me do this! I'll make this video, then you'll have your damn notebook!"

Ryuk's wings fluttered restlessly, but he flashed up through the ceiling without further protest.

Sighing, Light turned back to the camera. It wasn't recording yet, but its hollow eye was watching him silently. It unnerved him.

_I don't have much time,_ he reminded himself. _Teru will be back soon._ His roommate had been a great comfort during these miserable weeks, he acknowledged. He was a law student, just like him, and was just about on his way to graduate school. But he'd so far proven to be Light's greatest friend, sticking with him and explaining how things worked around campus. He even seemed to be willing to put up with the emotional breakdowns that had been happening far too often as Light prepared himself to give up his memories. For now, though, Teru was gone—which meant that this was the perfect time to finally go through with it. It had to be now.

But first, the video.

Light reached forward and pressed the record button, sitting back with a sigh. This had to be perfect. If he couldn't convince his memory-less self not to go looking for answers, everything would be for naught.

The red light blinked. It was time.

He sucked in a deep, slow breath. Exhaled just as slowly. Then he leaned forward, staring the camera right in its mechanical eye, and opened his mouth to speak. This time, he wasn't going to give up halfway through. This time, he would make it to the end.

"Hey there," he started awkwardly, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of speaking to _himself._ "This…probably seems a little weird. Or…does it? I'm not sure what's going to happen once I give up my memories and become _you._ It's entirely possible that I won't feel like I've lost any time, and that all my memories will seem intact. It's possible that by making this video and letting you know that you _did_ forget something, I'll just cause trouble for myself. Or, for you. But that's just a risk I'll have to take.

So…assuming you've realized that something's wrong, you're probably wondering just what's happened to your memories. Well…to put it bluntly, you've just had a good portion of the past year and a half wiped out of your thoughts. Knowing that, you'll probably want to go on an investigative spree to figure out just what you've forgotten. But I'm here to tell you…" And here he leaned even further forward, staring what would soon be his future self straight in the eyes. _"Don't_ do this to yourself. Those memories you're going after…they'll tear you apart. _Trust me._ I'm living with them right now, and at times it's taken everything I have not to off myself. If you go looking for answers and find them, you'll feel the same way I do. Miserable. Completely, utterly miserable.

Terrible things have happened to you in the past years. I'm not sure how much you remember, but…anything you've forgotten is a blessing. I know you're not going to be easily persuaded, but if you're going to trust anyone, you'll trust yourself. Or rather, _this_ version of yourself. To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure that we're the same person. I guess I'll find out, won't I? Or maybe I won't. Who knows?"

He laughed weakly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Just…listen to me, just this one time. I'll never ask you to do anything else. Just _don't—_ go looking for answers. All you need to know is that you went on a horrible journey, and it ended in tragedy. You lost your family. You lost your lov…" He had to force himself to choke out the word. "Your _lover_. And then you lost someone who…who was very close to you, and who you cared about very much. Hell, maybe you do still care about him. But no matter how much you miss him, no matter how much you want to go searching, you just _can't._ You have to stay here and become who you were meant to be. And this…this _weak, pathetic_ person you see in front of you, the person sporting all those horrible memories…this isn't it. _I'm_ not it. It's _you._ _You_ have to be the one to become what I could not. You are _strong._ You don't need anyone to validate you, you hear that? Feeling the need for someone to recognize you as something greater than you are…that's what got you into this mess in the first place. So _please…_ please be strong. Be stronger than I was, at the very least."

The red light continued to blink. Outside, Light heard muffled voices coming down the hall. He didn't know if Teru was among them, but he couldn't take the risk. He had to wrap this up now.

"I'm out of time," he said to the camera. "For good, this time. I'm going to become you in a few minutes, and then I'll be watching this, and…god, I hope I listen to myself. I hope _you_ listen."

The voices were getting closer. Light's eyes flickered to the door, then back to the camera. It was nearly over.

"Good luck," he whispered. "Be strong." And then it _was_ over, as he was shutting off the camera and turning away, gaze dark. He picked up the camera and set it on his desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper and setting it atop it. This would remind him to watch the video when he lost his memories. After that, the rest would be up to whoever he became after he forgot.

"About time!" Ryuk swept through the wall. "Geez, could you be any more dramatic? I thought I was going to drown in a pool of your tears!"

"I didn't _cry_ ," Light hissed angrily. "Now do you want your notebook back or not?"

"Yes, yes already!" Ryuk groaned, floating in listless circles. "Just give up possession, I'll take your memories, and then I'll be out of here!"

"Fine!" Light opened his mouth, the damning words on the tip of his tongue. But then he hesitated. This…was really it, wasn't it? He wouldn't be the same after this. He wasn't going to die, but…he felt like he was dying. This would be the last time he remembered everything that had happened to him. Remembered L. Remembered his family. Remembered Beyond. After this, he would be someone entirely different. The base memories would be there, but everything about the Death Note would be gone for good.

_But who knows?_ he thought, gazing down at his hands forlornly. _Maybe once I die and go to Mu, all of my memories will return to me. Maybe I'll become this version of myself once again._

"Well, kid?" Ryuk snapped. "Hurry it up, or I'll just kill ya here and now!"

He jolted slightly, knowing that the threat was far from harmless. "Okay, okay…"

Muffled voices approached the door. One of them _was_ Teru, he could hear that now.

Light sucked in a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes. Took a moment to just _feel_ the sensation of being himself. Then his eyes snapped back open, and he faced the shinigami with determination.

"Ryuk?"

The doorknob turned. Teru was just outside.

"I give it up."

The door swung open, and Mikami strolled into the room with an armful of law textbooks. He seemed surprised to see Light there, raising a brow even as a friendly smile graced his features. "Oh, hey, Light! Didn't you have an English class you were supposed to get to this morning?"

Light blinked. His head…why was his head spinning? He looked up at the ceiling and almost asked it a question, as if there had been something there moments ago that could have answered him. But all he saw there was a collection of off-white tiles, and so he turned to face Mikami with a frown. "Mikami…I apologize, I seem to have lost my head for a moment."

The man cocked his head to one side. "I asked you to call me Teru, remember? If you're going to make me call you by your first name, then I'll do the same to you."

"Right…" _Teru._ Now that he said it, he could remember their conversation. Funny…it had slipped his mind for a moment. _Wow—_ actually, now that he was focusing on it, something really did feel off about his memories. For a moment he thought he remembered something—a flash of red eyes, of dark hair—but then it was gone, and the fog began to clear. Nothing was wrong with his memories. What was wrong with him, thinking there was? He felt fine.

"Light?" Teru moved closer, concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"

The teen hesitated. Shrugged. "Never better."

"Okay, good. Do you want to grab lunch with me, then? I've got time before my next class, and I know you do too."

Another flicker of hesitation. Then he allowed a smile, bright and easy, to blossom across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

His roommate motioned to the door. "Shall we?"

Light moved for the door without hesitation, already beginning to ask some trivial question about what Teru had been up to before he'd come back.

Behind them, the video camera lurked on the desk, waiting to be found.

†††

Ryuk entered the shinigami realm in record time, soaring up into the skies of the world he'd left behind so many months ago. He'd been gone for much longer than he'd said he would be, and so he was feeling a bit nervous about returning to the King. He might be punished, and how would he handle that?

He forced himself not to think about it as he flew towards the King's castle. The weight of four Death Notes pressed against his hip, reminding him that even if it had taken a bit longer than expected, he'd still fulfilled his mission. He'd retrieved the two notebooks and the story written within, plus an extra to boot. Hopefully the King would appreciate his efforts.

He'd reached the castle. Silently steeling himself for the inevitable lecture he was about to receive, he tucked in his wings and let himself drop into the courtyard. As expected, the King was sitting very rigidly upon his throne.

"Hiya, your majesty," Ryuk said as he neared.

The King stared at him blankly for a moment. Then his expression twisted furiously, and he snapped, "Just what took you so long? It's been months!"

"I ran into a few complications. Those humans were a bit tricky, you understand."

"Did you at least accomplish the mission?"

He nodded, reaching down and pulling out two of the four Death Notes now in his possession. He would keep both his own and Rem's on him, for now. "I've got the notebooks right here, boss." He floated up to the King and handed them over, watching as the elder shinigami riffled through them suspiciously.

"Nothing was altered?" he asked harshly.

"Not that I know of."

The King took a moment longer to read through the notebooks. Then he leaned back, scoffing, "In either case, it's far too late for these to be of use to me."

"What?" Ryuk squawked. "You mean I did all that for nothing?"

"I'd say that's accurate, yes. These would have helped me several months ago, but now they're completely useless."

"But why?" he complained. "What makes them useless?"

The King rose to his feet, furiously shaking the notebooks above his head. "It's too late for me to implement this plan, you fool! All of these people have already written their own version of reality, and it's completely different from the one that should have been!"

Ryuk fluttered backwards, alarmed. "I didn't know, boss! Please don't vaporize me!"

The King dropped his head into his hands, pinching at the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "What's the point of going through the trouble to write out a plan if it just gets stolen and dashed?" he grumbled, voice so low that Ryuk nearly couldn't hear it. "It's my _job,_ Ryuk, to see what is meant to be and push it along! I had one chance to see everything that was about to happen, _meticulously_ record it—and then some crazed shinigami came along and _stole_ it because he thought I was being _cruel,_ seeing what was meant to happen and making the humans dance in the palm of my hand rather than warning them, and look what happened! He ruined _everything_ , and then you failed to retrieve the notebooks in time! And it's not like I had the story _memorized,_ so how was I supposed to do my job? You've thrown the entire universe out of balance!"

"I said I was sorry!" Ryuk repeated. "Come on, at least I got the notebooks back, right? You don't need to kill me!"

The elder shinigami glared, but he seemed more exasperated than truly upset. "The damage isn't permanent," he growled. "Now that I have the story back, I can make sure that all those fated to die soon meet their fate. I can't bring anyone back to life, so balance won't be entirely restored, but you'd better _hope_ that it's _enough,_ and that this entire plane of existence doesn't destabilize! I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not going to let you get off easy for this. You'll be punished."

Oh no…what was the King going to do to him? "Come on, boss," he begged, "don't make me do anything else! It almost took a whole year to complete that mission for you!"

"And you _failed_ that mission, did you not? It's time for you to make up for it!"

The shinigami pouted miserably, but knew that there was no use in arguing. Once the King had made up his mind, there was no changing it. He'd have to accept whatever punishment was doled out to him.

The King sank back into his throne, raising one finger and jabbing it in Ryuk's direction irritably. "I've already made my decision. Now come here, Ryuk, so that I might tell you your fate."


	43. The World

Dark wings sliced the sky, carrying their owner across the void at breakneck speed. Any other day, his flying would have been smooth and unhurried as he scoured the realm for one thing and one thing only. But today, the day he had been waiting for for what felt like millennia, he couldn't afford to be slow. He had to fly as swiftly as he could, wings carrying him faster and faster across the horizon. It was dangerous, he knew—there were countless stone spires littered all throughout this realm, and it was all too easy to accidentally strike one mid-flight and plummet to the ground. He'd learned that the hard way—and even if he couldn't die unless he _let_ himself die, it still hurt like hell.

But none of that mattered today. Clocking himself with a massive chunk of rock was a risk he was going to have to take.

He strained his eyes searching for the telltale mountainside where he would find what he was looking for. His eyes were good, just like the other members of his species, but not nearly good enough to cut through the thick black void that made up this realm's sky. Light levels were just so low here, and there was no day-night cycle, so there was never any kind of sun to light the landscape. He found that it was especially dim in this part of the realm for some reason—maybe the mountains were blotting it out? They had to be somewhere around here…

He rose higher, pausing where he was and beating his wings in long, powerful strokes. He couldn't see the mountainside…where was it? He flew forward a few more feet, endlessly searching. It _had_ to be here. His sources _had_ to be correct.

_You're still looking for that kid, right? Well I heard from a friend of a friend that there's this real weird guy that lives out at the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Apparently he's been there for years and years, just hanging around and_ watching. _Seems real disconnected, if you ask me—but it sounds like he could be the guy you're after. If you want to go there, I can give you directions._

He'd eagerly accepted those directions. His informant had led him to a specific point in the realm and then pointed him northeast, instructing him to fly straight for _days_ until he reached a mountain range that cut up into the sky like a set of jagged teeth. He would know it when he saw it.

Now, it had been days—and the longer he went with no mountain range coming into sight, the longer he believed that the other shinigami had been lying.

He hissed in irritation as he was forced to duck around one of those spires he'd just been worrying about. This was dangerous, but it was worth it to find _him._ He'd been searching for so very long…the realm was endless, and it was nearly impossible to find someone if they didn't want to be found. What made thing worse was that for a long time he'd been able to watch him from the portal to the human world. He'd gotten so used to always being able to see him (even when it became clear that the idiot was _replacing_ him with that infuriating roommate of his) that it suddenly hurt all the worse when he was torn from sight. He'd been eager to greet the teen when he'd arrived, but…it looked like _he_ hadn't felt the same. He'd run away, and no one who'd tried had been able to track him down.

Until now.

His eyes widened as he realized that he could see a set of jagged peaks rising above the bleak horizon, not too far in front of him. He could see them— _finally_ he could see them.

_The kid you're looking for will be at the peak of the tallest mountain, right in the middle of the range. He's apparently got a cave up there he likes to wallow in._

He drew closer, raking his eyes along the peaks. And there it was: one that rose above all the rest, right in the middle. Just as his informant had said.

_You'd better be here, you bastard._ He descended towards a flat point on the side of the mountain, seeing no better place to land. _I've been searching for years._ His feet touched down on the dusty mountainside, the rest of his weight settling down upon them as his wings tucked themselves tight to his back. He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing when he died, but he'd had to rip long tears in the back of his shirt to accommodate the hulking appendages. He was thankful for them, though. Without them, he never would have been able to cover as much ground as he had so quickly.

Now that he was on the mountainside, he could see clearly that there was a trail leading up to what he hoped was the top. Grumbling at the prospect of the climb, he set off at as quick a pace as he could manage.

As he looked around, he saw nothing but ruin. Dead, decaying trees littered the mountain, punctuated by crumbling boulders and long-dead undergrowth. It almost appeared as if he was standing in a decaying grove—one that had been in the process of decaying for thousands of years.

_I see why you came here,_ he thought bitterly, fingertips scoring across the ashen trunk of a dead tree. _You always loved forests._

He kept moving, feet crunching down a thick layer of dead grass. He squinted up at his surroundings, hoping to see what he was coming up on, but it was so dark that it was hard to see anything around him other than his immediate surroundings. He supposed that he didn't really need to see his surroundings, though—they had to be the same as everything _else_ in this realm. Nothing ever deviated from the normal crumbling rock and decaying greenery. Not that there was any _green_ left to speak of.

It was the very definition of nothingness.

The path curved, and he followed that curve determinedly. Nothing would stop him now. He'd been searching for too long, not even knowing why he was doing it. Was it guilt? A desire to put things right?

He really didn't know.

When he'd first arrived here all those years ago, his first thought had been of revenge. He'd been so terribly wronged in life, he'd very nearly reached for his notebook and started offing the people that had been responsible for his death. But…the more temperate side of himself had protested.

_You've done enough interfering for one lifetime,_ that voice had warned him. _You've caused enough chaos, enough death. Now is a time for reflection._

And so he'd done just that. Trapped in the nothingness that was the shinigami realm—trapped in _Mu—_ he'd had plenty of time to think about what he'd done. And then, eventually, _he_ had died, and Beyond showed signs of following willingly, though he would never end up in Mu, and, well…

The rest was history.

_Do you regret what you did? Were you in the wrong? Were you unjustified?_

He'd been asking himself such questions for dozens of years. Maybe hundreds. And…the answers still seemed to evade him. Some days he thought that he was the worst person to have ever lived, and others he raged that he'd been taken from the path of justice. Some days he wanted to scream in anguish up into the void, and other days he sat silently, staring at the hands that had taken the lives of thousands of people.

There was something wrong with him, emotionally. He knew that now.

The road curved again in front of him, and he set his feet upon the dusty path. He traversed that final curve, and the top of the mountain was finally visible. It was a large, flat area, descending back into a cave at the far end. A single tree sprouted from the dead earth, full of what appeared to be decaying apples. Otherwise, though, it was just like the rest of the realm—brown, dull, and filled with traces of crumbling rock and decaying plant matter. Not a pleasant place to live. But then again, there wasn't really such a thing as _pleasant_ in the shinigami realm.

His eyes raked the clifftop, searching for any sign of life. If _he_ wasn't here, then he'd flown all the way out here for nothing. He had to find him. He had to see if he was here. And then, maybe, once they were finally face to face once again, he would finally know why he'd tried so hard to track him down.

He heard it, then. The rustle of cloth.

His head snapped to one side, to the point where the edge of the cliff dropped away into dark nothingness, and his heart leapt in his chest as he saw a dark form hunched over the edge.

The form's legs were dangling off the edge of the cliff, kicking listlessly. His hands pressed into the earth behind him as he leaned back, head craned upwards towards the void that the shinigami called the sky. And his wings, two sleek, delicate things that looked almost as light as air and blindingly white, shone in two great slashes against the dark horizon. He was wearing the same thing he always had right before his death: a loose pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, which now sported a pair of identical rips for his wings to protrude from. His hair looked as soft as ever, amber and gleaming in the dull light.

It was him.

_It's him._

The words swam through his mind over and over, repeating on an endless loop as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that the person he'd searched so long for was sitting at the edge of that cliff. Had he been here the whole time? Just…waiting? For _what?_

"I knew you'd find me."

He jumped, not having thought that the being at the cliffside knew he was there. He stared in shock, not quite sure how to proceed.

The being turned his head, showing him just the right side of his face, and murmured, "It's been years. What's taken you so long?"

"Were you waiting for me?" The words were rough and raspy, his voice hoarse from disuse. There had been no reason to talk much for the past dozen years or so.

The figure shrugged. "Not particularly, no. I just suspected that you'd be looking for me."

"And…did you want me to find you?" He moved closer step by step, slowly, not wanting to scare the person off.

"Not particularly," he said again. "But it wasn't up to me."

"No?" Closer. Closer still. "You could have kept moving. Run from me. You _know_ how large this realm is; if you'd wanted to run you could have. I never would have been able to find you."

"No," he agreed. "You wouldn't have."

"And yet you chose to stay."

"I did."

Only a few feet separated them now. The figure had turned his face away, though, and no part of it was visible. There was no way to tell what he was thinking.

"I…" The being trailed off. Swallowed hard. "I don't know why I chose to stay here. I can't even see the human realm from this place, you know. I'm blind to it. I've been that way since I arrived here, however many years ago. I could just move inland to the portal, take a look to see how all my old friends are doing, but…seeing them makes this whole mess real, and I don't want to believe that it's real." He laughed humorlessly. "Then again, seeing you here has the same effect, so I'm not sure what I'm running from. Or rather, waiting for."

He inched closer. He could touch him now, if he wanted. Reach out and brush his fingers through his hair. Across his wings. Over his shoulders.

There was a deep, tense silence before the being chose to spoke again. "Lawliet…why are you here?"

The sound of his name falling from the being's lips made him wince. "Don't call me that," he requested shortly.

"What do you want me to call you, then?" the figure snorted. _"L?_ Your old detective alias?"

"It's my name," he pointed out. "You should use it."

"Then you could use mine, too," the being said shortly. He turned his head just slightly, one scarlet eye glittering up at the person standing over him. "Or have you forgotten?"

His throat felt dry. His tongue was thick in his mouth. "How could I possibly have forgotten?" he rasped. "Light."

Light watched him through that single, shining eye. "L. _Why are you here?"_

L hesitated, unsure. Why _was_ he here? He'd hoped that seeing Light again would have given him an idea, but his mind was just…blank.

"Did you want to make amends?" Light pressed. "Apologize for what you've done? Or…did you want to gloat? Remind me just how very _wrong_ I was when I acted against you in that final confrontation?"

"I…" His voice was caught in the back of his throat.

Light's eyes burned right through him. "Well?"

L inched even closer, drawing up beside the teen. Or rather, the _shinigami._ "I don't know," he admitted in a dull whisper. "I thought that when I saw you again, I'd figure it out."

"And it didn't work, I take it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "No."

"Hmm." Light looked towards the horizon. His entire body was painted with tension, the lines of his form drawn stiff and unrelenting. He almost seemed to be waiting for L to speak again, to broach one of the many heavy topics hanging in the air between them. But L said nothing, and fidgeting awkwardly, Light decided upon, "You know…I never expected nothingness to be quite like this."

"No one did," L murmured, holding back a smile at the shinigami's uncertainty. "I didn't, that's for sure. Mu…the shinigami realm…why would we have suspected that they would be one and the same?" His fingers brushed subconsciously against his belt, where his Death Note was tucked in the same place it always was. He couldn't see Light's notebook on him, but he knew it had to be there. Even if he wasn't using it, it had to be _somewhere_. And he probably hadn't had to use it yet, seeing as he would have kept all the years of life from the people he'd killed while he was still on earth. He probably had thousands of years to live before he had to write a single name.

"My notebook isn't here," Light spoke, as if reading his thoughts.

"It's in the cave, then?" L questioned.

"No."

"Then…where…?"

Light stared down into darkness. "I destroyed it a long time ago," he voiced quietly.

L's eyes snapped to Light in alarm. "You _what?"_

"Destroyed it." The shinigami slashed his hand through the air, miming the act of ripping the notebook apart. "Tore it to pieces, shredded it apart and left it to flee in the breeze. Unfortunately, it seems that doing so didn't relieve me of my regained memories."

"You'll die without it!" L yelped, the beginnings of rage bubbling in his chest. "Are you a complete moron? Do you _want_ to die?"

A moment of silence. Then, "I refuse to kill another person. If that results in my death, then I will fly to it with open arms."

"You're a fool," L realized.

"No more than you are, my old enemy."

_Enemy._ Was that how Light saw him?

"I suppose you've gone on a killing rampage, just like the old days."

"I…" He bit his tongue. "I've killed people. But…not in the way I used to. I gave that up!"

"Why?"

"Because I thought—"

"Were you thinking of me?" Light smiled bitterly. "You were, weren't you? You quit killing people the way you used to because you thought that when you found me, you could tell me what you'd been up to and I would think you were a changed man. I would take you back."

"Well…" _Yes._

"What do you want me to say, L? That I forgive you? That a few years of only killing a _few dozen_ people per month makes up for everything you put the human world through?"

_Yes. That's exactly what I want._

"Do you really think you deserve forgiveness from me?"

"I don't…" He shook his head in desperate confusion. "I just—!"

Light turned, and scarlet eyes cut to his very core. "Leave this place, L."

"I can't! I spent years searching for you!"

"And now that you've found me, I'm telling you to leave. There is nothing for you here."

"But…"

Light glared. "You will find no forgiveness with me. I will never tell you that what you did was okay. No matter what you do now, it will not make up for what's already been done."

"I can stop killing!"

"We both know that you won't."

L opened his mouth to protest, but snapped his jaws closed with an audible click. They both knew the truth. But that didn't mean he was about to give up. "I'll stay here for as long as it takes to get you to come around."

"It's never going to happen. The sooner you realize that, the better."

"It's not my _fault!"_ L hissed. "Beyond poisoned your mind, and then that _Mikami_ shoved his way into your life and took my place!"

"Nobody _replaced_ you, L, and no one poisoned me. Teru was my best friend and my best friend alone, and Beyond did nothing but attempt to open my eyes to the truth." His voice was soft, but there was tension written in every line of his body. "And this isn't about them. This is about you, and about me."

"About us."

His eyes flashed. _"No._ There is no us."

"Light, if you would just _listen_ to me—"

"No, L. No more."

"But—!"

"I said _no!"_

L fell silent, staring at Light in amazement. He'd always been so willing to compromise, to do whatever he wished with only a little persuasion. What had changed?

"I lived without my memories for a long time," Light murmured, as if in response to his silent question. "I made it nine years after you died—which was far longer than anyone expected me to make it, mind you—and I spent that time getting my head on straight. I'm not the same person you walked away from all those years ago. I won't fall into your web again. That version of myself without my memories of the Death Note became stronger than I ever could have become while you were around—and when I regained my memories, I swore to hold onto that strength."

His heart—or what was left of it—clenched in his chest. "So that's it, then? You're determined to push me away?"

"I am. Now leave me, please. I'm not sure how much longer I have before my lifespan runs out and I move on to whatever comes next, but…I want to be alone."

L watched him, searching for some sign that his words and his heart weren't in agreement. But the longer he looked, the longer he realized that Light was serious. He was determined to push him away, for good this time.

_Like hell I'll let that happen._

L shuffled right up to the edge of the cliff, hearing Light let out an indignant, "Just what on earth do you think you're doing? I told you to _leave."_

"And I told you I wasn't leaving."

Light glared daggers. "I hate you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do." He curled his toes over the edge of the cliff, peering down over it. It was beautiful down there, he thought. Pitch black and deeper than the ocean. "I'm determined to change that."

The shinigami snorted. "Do I have no choice but to endure your presence?"

"You could always leave."

"This is where I belong. I'm not going anywhere."

L smirked. "Then I guess you really are stuck with me, for as long as I deign to remain here." His heels scraped the ground painfully, but he didn't feel it.

Light looked at him again, and his eyes were filled with fury. "I'm never going to forgive you, you know."

"I know."

"I really do hate you."

"I know."

"I'm not going to let you talk me into remaining alive once my time is up."

"I know."

"There's nothing for you here, damn it!"

And again, he dipped his head in understanding. "You're here. That's all that matters to me."

Light eyed him helplessly. Then the worry melted out of his expression, and he turned his head back towards the place where the sky met the dead forest in the distance. All the tension had slipped out of him, and he looked ten times his age as he sat motionless. "Even if that were true, I wouldn't want you here. You still think I wronged you, isn't that right? You think I wronged you and allowed you to be executed."

He didn't respond. The detective—the _former_ detective—simply sighed, able to read every flickering emotion running through Light's mind. He could see it all. The pain, the hatred, the anger, the hopelessness… The teen's mind was a wasteland of negative emotion.

_It's because of me,_ he realized. _He's feeling this way because I'm forcing him to relive the past. If I leave, he'll go back to being the way he was before I got here. He'll be at peace. If I just leave, he'll be okay._

He should leave. He knew that.

He also didn't plan on it.

L was selfish. Always had been, always would be. His entire life, he'd taken, and taken, and taken, and never given anything back.

And now, he was going to be selfish one last time.

L slowly lowered himself down, kicking his feet out over the edge of the cliff and planting himself right beside Light, bracing his arms behind him and mirroring the teen's position as he craned his neck to stare upwards.

"What are you doing?" Light growled.

"Staying," was the simple response. L gazed up at the void, trying to see what Light saw. Tension had returned to the teen's body, and he buzzed like a live wire as he glared at the nonexistent stars. The sight of his pain made L's heart twinge, though he wasn't sure if it was out of sympathy or irritation. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Was it the truth? Could he ever really be sorry?

Light eyed him with a mixture of weariness and anger. "You're not," he whispered, and maybe he was right. _Probably,_ he was right. _Probably_ L was still the same person he'd been before his death, softened only slightly by his revelation in the hospital room but never quite able to become the person Light would be willing to accept. _Probably_ he was done, and even his best efforts would never be able to change his heart.

_Probably,_ this was it. This was the end.

Light shifted beside him, drawing his attention. "It's beautiful," he whispered distractedly, as if he'd forgotten that he'd been yelling at the detective mere moments before. "Don't you think?"

L looked out over the blackened forest. "Yeah," he agreed, still struggling to see what Light saw, as he'd _always_ been struggling, since the very first moment they'd met. "It's really something to die for."

Light sighed, and they fell into silence. Later, L knew, there would be conflict. They would argue, and fight, and hate each other for everything that had happened between them in their past lives. Light would scream at him, beg him to leave him alone for the rest of his existence as a shinigami, and L would stubbornly shake his head and sit himself in the back of the cave, refusing to go. L would ask Light to forgive him for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time Light would refuse. Then he would do it again, and again, until his head spun from trying. Later, they would punch and bite and claw at each other until they could barely move. Later, there would be plenty of time to hate each other in earnest.

Later, Light would never forgive him, and L would realize that, and he would try to pretend that he didn't care.

Later, Light would go, and L would be left alone.

Later…things would never be the same.

But now was different. Now was just them.

Now was just _them_ , sitting side by side, staring out across the black horizon that never seemed to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. After nearly a year of writing and editing, then several months of posting, it all comes to an end. 
> 
> Looking back on this experience, there's a lot I would do differently if I could do it all over again. I think I'd get rid of a lot of the romantic elements, for one thing. I'd write Light as an entirely different character. I'd focus on the smaller details that I've overlooked. But in the end, going back to fix all of those mistakes and trying to make this story perfect would just distract me from better things, and I think I'm ready to move on.
> 
> I'm taking a break from Death Note, after this, and moving on to Homestuck for a while. I've already got most of my first story for that fandom done, so check back for that in a few months if you're interested! If not, then I'm glad I could entertain you for this long, at least. 
> 
> So, I guess that's it! There's nothing left. Thanks for for everything, and...I guess I'll see you all around.


End file.
